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r  WHAT  THE  "BOYS" 
^ID  OVER  THERE 


BY  "THEMSELVES" 


EDITED  BY 

HENRY  L.  FOX 


PUBLISHED  BY 

ALLIED  OVERSEAS  VETERANS'  STORIES  CO.,  Inc. 

I4S  W.  45th  STREET,  N.  Y.  CITY 


aA^ 


Copyright,  1918,  1919,  by 
Allied  Overseas  Veterans'  Stories  Co.,  Inc. 


CONTENTS 


My  Experience  as  a  Dispatcher 
Bringing  in  a  Sniper 
On  the  Flanders  Front  . 
A  "Devil  Dog's"  Story   . 
In  the  Verdun  Sector 
The  Hun  I  Was  Sure  I  "Got"  . 
Life  in  the  Trenches 
Two  Years  in  the  Ypres  Salient 
A  Night  Adventure 
A  Machine  Gunner's  Story     . 
The  Fall  of  Cantigny    . 
The  Retreat  from  Mons 
My  Service  in  Flanders  . 
My  Service  in  Flanders  (Part  Two) 
With  the  Ammunition  Train 
Hospital  Experience 
Two  Years  and  a  Half  of  War 
From  England  to  France  and  Back 
"Why  I  Hate  a  German" 
My  Duty  to  My  Country 
The    "Dardenelles"    Campaign 
The  First  of  the  "Tanks" 
The  Sunshine  of  the  Trenches 
My   Experiences   in    France   with    the 
Canadian  Infantry   . 

Three  Years  and  Two  Months  in  France 

3 


10th 


11 

20 

26 

31 

38 

42 

44 

48 

56 

58 

64 

70 

78 

83 

88 

93 

97 

105 

115 

123 

131 

139 

142 

152 

164 


1!n  fIDemoriam 

This  book  is  affectionately  dedi- 
cated to  "The  Boys"  who  found 
their  final  rest  in  the  Hallowed 
Soil  of  Martyred  Belgium  and 
France,  by  their  more  fortunate 
comrades 

The  Authors 


SERGT.    DOUGLAS    AYLEN 


INTRODUCTION 

how  and  why  this  book  was  compiled 
By  the  Editor 

IN  ASSEMBLING  the  stories  contained  in 
this  book  we  have  endeavored  to  put  in  real- 
istic and  readable  form  some  of  the  actual,  and 
authentic,  experiences  of  soldiers  and  officers  of 
the  Allied  Forces,  who  have  returned  to  their 
homes  after  nobly  sacrificing  themselves  in  the 
service  of  their  respective  countries.  It  has 
been  our  endeavor  to  give  to  these  stories  as 
much  of  the  personality  of  "The  Boys,"  who 
have  told  us  their  experiences,  as  possible,  by 
using  their  own  words  whenever  their  physical 
condition  permitted  them  to  write  their  own 
stories. 

Literary  style  has  been  a  secondary  considera- 
tion as  we  believe  that  a  majority  of  the  public 
would  prefer  to  read  the  truth  unabridged,  than 
a  story  garbled  by  editorial  tinkering. 

We  are  indebted  to  the  following  heroes  for 
their  aid  in  the  publication  of  this  book: 

Private  Jesse  W.  Wade,  Dispatch  rider  No. 

7 


8  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

151023.  Wounded  by  shrapnel  in  the  shoulder 
in  Flanders,  wounded  in  the  leg  at  Soissons, 
Veteran  of  the  Mexican  campaigns  of  1914  and 
1916.  Seven  times  cited  for  gallantry  by  the 
French  Government. 

Sergt.  Jack  Winston,  No.  55525,  19th  Batt, 
Canadian  Infantry,  2nd  Canadian  Contingent. 
Wounded  in  the  right  arm,  left  ankle  and  right 
knee.  Shell-shocked  and  buried ;  also  gassed  at 
second  battle  of  Ypres. 

Pvt.  Al.  Barker,  No.  118,  43rd  Co.,  5th 
Regt.,  American  Marines.  Shot  in  the  knee  and 
gassed  at  Chateau-Thierry,  bayonet  wounds  in 
both  feet  at  the  Marne. 

Corp.  Frank  J.  Sears,  Co.  A,  9th  Infantry, 
2nd  Div.,  A.E.F.  Shell-shock  and  gassed  at 
Chateau-Thierry.  Decorated  by  the  French 
Government  with  the  ''Croix  de  Guerre." 

Private  A.  F.  Edwards,  No.  6857,  1st  Batt, 
1st  Brigade,  1st  Div.,  Canadian  Inf.  Wounded 
in  the  right  hand,  right  arm  and  buried  by  shell. 

Machine  gunner  George  Eckhart,  No. 
105688,  First  M.  G.  Batt.,  1st  Div.,  A.E.F. 
Wounded  in  the  leg  and  gassed  at  Cantigny. 
Decorated  by  the  French  Government  with  the 
^'Croix  de  Guerre." 

Sergt.  T.  S.  Grundy,  15918,  Royal  Fusileers, 
Middlesex  Regt.,  English  Army.    Wounded  in 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  9 

shoulder  at  Ypres  and  gassed  at  Loos.  Deco- 
rated by  the  British  Government  with  the 
*'Mons  Star."  One  of  the  first  hundred  thou- 
sand. 

Sergt.  Alexander  Gibb,  No.  444476,  26th 
Batt,  New  Brunswick  Regt.,  2nd  Canadian 
Contingent.  Wounded  in  both  legs,  shell- 
shocked  and  gassed  at  Ypres. 

F.  G.  McAvity,  No.  91805,  gunner  of  the  8th 
Battery,  1st  Canadian  Field  Artillery.  Wounded 
in  the  left  foot,  left  thigh,  left  shoulder  and 

gassed. 

Sergt.  Frederick  Ralph  Muir,  No.  81611, 
10th  Batt.,  C.E.F.  Wounded  at  Festubert,  Bel- 
gium.   Leg  amputated  at  the  knee. 

Private  George  Oxton,  10th  Batt,  C.E.F., 
No.  81680,  Wounded  at  Festubert,  Belgium. 
Right  leg  amputated  at  hip. 

Fvt.  John  Miller,  No.  122957,  96th  Co.,  6th 
Regt,  U.  S.  Marines. 

Fvt  Jack  Kneeland,  No.  105,  43rd  Co.,  5th 
Regt,  American  Marines.  Shrapnel  wound  in 
the  head  at  Belleau  Woods,  wounded  and  gassed 
at  Chateau-Thierry. 

Sergt  Mark  L.  Nicholson,  No.  3736,  10th 
Liverpool  Scottish,  B.E.F.  Wounded  in  head 
at  Dardanelles.  Partially  blinded  and  gassed, 
Hooge,  France. 


lo  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

Sergt.  E.  D.  G.  Aylen,  No.  475337,  Princess 
Patricia's  Canadian  Light  Infantry  ("Princess 
Pats").  Blinded  in  right  eye  at  Hooge,  France. 
Wounded  in  left  shoulder. 

Sergt.  Harry  Hall,  No.  1980S,  A  Co.,  10th 
Battalion,  1st  Canadian  Contingent.  Shrapnel 
wounds,  left  arm  and  leg,  Givenchy,  June,  1915. 

Lance  Corporal  Edmund  Hall,  2nd  Scottish 
Rifles,  B.E.F.  Regular  Army,  15  years'  service, 
Sj/z  in  France.  Wounded,  Battle  of  Somme, 
1916.    Decoration,  Star  of  Mons. 

It  is  the  hope  of  the  authors  that  "What  The 
Boys  Did  Over  There"  will  give  to  its  readers 
some  idea  of  real  conditions  in  the  field,  and 
bring  to  those  of  us  who  remained  at  home  a 
realization  of  the  debt  we  owe  to  the  men  who 
have  suffered  for  us. 


WHAT   THE   ''BOYS"    DID  OVER 

THERE 

MY  EXERIENCE  AS  A  DISPATCHER 

BY  PVT.  JESSE  W.  WADE,  NO.    151023,  DISPATCH 

RIDER,  A.E.F. 

I  ENLISTED  in  the  U.  S.  Army  some  five 
years  ago,  and  have  had  continuous  service 
ever  since.  Being  in  the  army  before  the  war 
broke  out  enabled  me  to  know  something  about 
both  sides  of  army  life,  but  peace  times  and  war 
times  are  as  different  as  day  and  night.  One 
war  is  enough  for  any  man,  so  now  I  am  ready 
to  settle  down,  but,  before  I  do,  I  will  endeavor 
to  tell  you  some  of  my  experiences  in  this  Great 
War  "Over  Seas." 

Being  already  in  the  army,  but  in  a  branch 
of  the  service  that  v^as  not  likely  to  go  over 
among  the  first,  I  volunteered  to  go  with  the 
first  contingent  as  a  dispatcher.  We  started  the 
first  leg  of  our  journey  across  the  Atlantic,  and 
then  we  began  those  anxious  nights  of  watch- 
ing for  submarines — and  that  awful  seasickness 
for  some  twelve  days.  At  last  we  set  our  feet  on 
solid  ground  again  and  started  our  long  journey 
across  France,  in  some  French  cattle  cars 
marked  eight  horses  or  forty  men.    About  three 


IZ 


12  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

days  in  one  of  those,  and  one  really  believes 
there  is  a  war  going  on  somewhere.  We  were 
all  very  much  disappointed  when  we  were  all 
landed  a  long  way  from  the  Front,  and  told  we 
would  stay  there  until  we  were  trained  in 
modern  warfare;  but  all  being  blue-blooded 
Americans  we  took  it  very  easy,  building  camps 
and  getting  things  ready  for  the  other  boys  that 
were  coming. 

The  small  village  near  our  camps  w^as  full 
of  our  boys  every  night.  Mumm's  Extra  Dry 
Champagne  was  selling  at  234  francs  per  quart 
(49c.  U.  S.).  It  wasn't  very  long  before  our 
boys  were  taking  baths  in  champagne.  After 
having  a  few  weeks  of  camp  life  there  were  fifty 
men  picked  out,  to  go  to  the  English  front,  to 
receive  instructions  in  modern  warfare.  I  was 
among  the  lucky  ones,  and  then  the  fun  of  war 
began.  We  were  sent  to  one  of  the  most  active 
British  fronts,  and  there  we  lived  in  the  trenches 
night  and  day  for  two  months. 

There  I  began  to  realize  that  Sherman's 
words  were  only  too  true.  Anyone  who  never 
had  the  misfortune  to  be  in  Flanders,  up  around 
Ypres,  at  the  time,  will  never  know  the  hard- 
ships that  the  British,  and  a  few  Americans  had 
to  go  through.  We  stood  it  wonderfully  well, 
though.    We  could  have  enjoyed  ourselves  much 


PRIVATE   JESSE    W.    WADE 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  13 

more  on  Broadway.     But  the  French  say  "cest 
la  guerre"  (it's  the  war). 

We  had  been  in  the  trenches  some  three  weeks 
before  we  had  the  opportunity  of  going  "Over 
the  Top."  One's  feelings  the  first  time  he  goes 
"Over  the  Top"  can  never  be  known  to  anyone 
but  himself.  One  will  be  dozing  on  the  firing 
step,  and  the  platoon  leader  comes  around  and 
whispers  in  your  ear  to  get  ready.  The  time  is 
set  for  1.13  A.M.  You  can  hardly  talk  above 
a  whisper  for  the  least  noise  draws  fire  from  the 
enemy.  As  the  time  draws  near,  you  look  at 
your  watch  and  see  that  you  have  only  seven  or 
eight  minutes.  Yet,  you  almost  sink  down  and 
it  seems  as  though  the  bones  have  gone  out  of 
your  legs  and  back.  The  time  is  getting  short, 
and  at  last  the  big  guns  open  up,  and  something 
just  seems  to  push  you  up  and  over.  Before  you 
are  aware  of  what  is  happening  you  are  out  on 
No  Man's  Land,  acting  like  a  veteran.  After 
one  or  two  of  these  successful  raids  you  do  not 
think  war  is  so  bad  after  all.  It  is  real  fun, 
but  you  have  not  seen  enough  of  it  yet.  Tommie 
says:  "Wait  till  you  have  three  years  of  it  and 
you'll  be  bloody  well  sick  of  it,  Sammy."  One 
year  was  enough  to  make  me  sick  of  it.  An- 
other very  pleasant  job  is  to  crawl  out  on  No 
Man's  Land  some  dark  night  on  patrol,  drag- 


14  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

ging  yourself  along  on  the  ground,  an  inch  at 
a  time,  for  fear  of  being  heard  and  fired  upon, 
and  just  as  you  think  everything  is  going  fine 
you  run  over  a  twig  and  break  it.  It  snaps  and 
sounds  like  a  ton  of  dynamite  going  up,  and  then 
they  send  up  a  star-shell  to  light  up  No  Man's 
Land,  and  you  begin  to  say  your  prayers. 

Then  all  is  quiet  again  and  you  finish  your 
work  and  feel  your  way  back  to  the  trench. 
There  is  never  a  happier  moment  than  when  you 
drop  back  in  your  own  trench,  safe  and  sound, 
among  friends.  It  was  on  one  of  the  patrols 
that  I  got  my  first  wounds.  I  was  sent  out  about 
1.30  A.M.  with  a  patrol  of  English  to  do  some 
very  ticklish  work,  and,  in  cutting  our  way 
through  some  wire  entanglements,  the  wire 
snapped  and  made  a  ringing  noise  and  the  Ger- 
mans opened  up  on  us,  throwing  everything  at 
us  but  their  shoes.  We  were  giving  them  a 
receipt  for  all  they  sent  us  until,  all  at  once,  I 
began  to  feel  sick  and  my  arm  became  numb. 
I  almost  collapsed,  but  I  knew  that  that  was  no 
place  to  act  like  a  girl  and  faint,  so  I  began 
crawling  back  toward  our  trench.  It  was  hard 
to  do,  having  only  one  hand  free,  but  at  last  I 
crawled  into  the  trench  where  I  found  another 
horror  waiting.  Our  trench  was  full  of  gas  and 
I  did  not  have  my  gas  mask  on  and  as  I  got 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  15 

one  breath  of  it  I  was  finished,  and  the  next 
thing  I  knew  I  was  back  in  a  nice  little  bed, 
between  two  white  sheets,  with  a  little  blonde 
nurse  smiling  down  at  me.  I  thought  that  I 
had  died  and  that  I  was  in  heaven  until  I  heard 
a  Tommy  say: 

"Where  in  Hell  is  me  Tags',"  and  then  I 
knew  I  was  not  in  heaven,  but  was  not  sure  I 
was  alive  yet.  At  last  I  found  out  I  was,  for, 
about  thirty  minutes  later,  the  gas  began  to  make 
me  sick.  Gas  sickness  is  the  worst  sickness  in 
the  world. 

After  three  weeks  in  bed  I  was  getting  along 
fine  and  was  sent  to  a  convalescent  hospital. 
There  we  had  the  time  of  our  lives  for  two 
weeks,  when  we  were  sent  back  to  duty.  It  was 
just  like  a  homecoming  to  get  back  w^ith  our 
own  boys  again  after  everyone  thought  you  were 
dead.  Everything  ran  along  smoothly  for 
awhile  until  I  was  detailed  as  a  dispatch  rider, 
one  of  the  most  dangerous  jobs  in  the  army. 

The  average  term  of  a  dispatcher's  life  is  just 
twenty-three  minutes,  so  you  can't  blame  me 
for  taking  out  $10,000  worth  of  life  insurance. 
At  first  it  was  not  so  dangerous,  for  our  troops 
had  not  yet  taken  over  any  part  of  the  line,  but 
we  had  to  make  trips  to  the  Front  every  day  or 
two.    At  last  we  were  ordered  into  the  line  and 


i6  'ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

took  over  a  sector  of  our  own,  and  a  prouder 
bunch  of  boys  was  not  to  be  found.  We  were 
then  doing  what  we  had  come  over  to  do. 
Everything  was  quiet  for  the  first  few  months, 
except  for  an  occasional  raiding  party.  We 
spent  the  hardest  winter  I  ever  put  in,  or  ever 
want  to,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  "cooties" 
we  should  have  frozen,  but  they  kept  us  scratch- 
ing and  moving  and  kept  our  blood  in  circula- 
tion. At  last  spring  came  and  things  became 
more  active  as  we  were  getting  more  men  on 
the  Front.  On  the  18th  day  of  July,  1918,  it  was 
just  like  turning  out  a  bunch  of  hungry  lions, 
for  they  turned  us  loose,  and  said  "go  get  them." 
We  have  been  "getting  them"  ever  since.  At 
Chateau-Thierry  we  began  driving  them  back 
so  fast  that  they  threw  the  Prussians  and  Ba- 
varians at  us;  all  big  fellows  six  foot  and  over, 
and  very  wicked  fighters.  Being  a  dispatch 
rider  I  was  around  some  point  of  the  line  most 
all  the  time,  and  had  the  opportunity  to  go 
"Over  the  Top"  with  the  boys  when  not  other- 
wise occupied.  Once  in  awhile  the  dispatch 
riders  would  be  given  twenty-four  or  forty-eight 
hours  off  during  which  we  could  do  as  we 
pleased.  Most  of  us  went  up  in  the  line,  and 
"Over  the  Top"  with  the  boys,  or  those  who  had 
any  qualifications  as  a  shot  would  go  out  with  a 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  17 

sniping  squad  which  was  very  interesting  as  well 
as  dangerous.  At  one  time  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
going  up  in  an  observation  balloon,  and  seeing 
the  fighting  from  the  German  side.  I  have  seen 
with  my  own  eyes  German  officers  driving  their 
men  into  battle  with  a  whip  or  the  point  of  a 
gun.  I  have  also  seen  some  of  the  atrocities  com- 
mitted by  the  Hun  in  Belgium  and  along  the 
borders  of  France.  It  just  makes  one's  blood 
run  cold  to  think  of  it,  as  some  of  you  do.  You 
ask  why  a  boy  wants  to  stand  up  and  be  shot 
down  by  those  dogs?  I'll  tell  you  why.  It  is 
because  he  doesn't  want  his  own  mother,  or  sis- 
ter, to  be  treated  as  the  Belgians  and  French 
women  and  girls  have  been  treated.  Every  man, 
woman  and  child  owes  the  deepest  respect  to  any 
boy  who  has  done  his  bit  in  the  World  War. 

Now  to  get  back  to  the  Battle  of  Chateau- 
Thierry,  and  tell  you  a  few  of  my  own  expe- 
riences. In  that  battle  one  of  the  most  thrilling 
experiences  happened  to  me.  The  fight  began 
at  3.30  A.  M.,  July  26.  I  had  just  ridden  up  to  a 
section  of  our  line  where  the  enemy  had  started 
a  box-barrage,  which  it  is  almost  impossible  to 
get  through  alive  and  is  almost  like  madness  to 
attempt.  At  this  time  it  was  important  that  a 
certain  message  be  delivered  at  the  rear.  Such 
a  message  is  sent  with  from  two  to  six  riders, 


1 8  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

SO  that  one  of  them  will  be  sure  to  get  through. 
There  were  five  of  us  there  at  the  time,  but, 
owing  to  the  fact  that  I  had  just  come  back  from 
a  trip,  the  message  was  sent  by  the  other  four 
riders.  We  watched  them,  but  not  one  of  them 
got  through  the  barrage.  Then  the  commander 
looked  at  me,  and  I  looked  at  him.  He  didn't 
say  anything  but  his  look  had  words  in  it,  writ- 
ten in  big  letters,  saying: 

"It's  up  to  you." 

I'll  admit  that  I  was  scared.  Not  the  cow- 
ardly kind  but  a  different  kind  of  fear.  I  once 
heard  a  general  say  that  a  soldier's  life  was  made 
up  of  four  parts — "Smiles  and  tears,  profanity 
and  prayers,"  and  I  think  I  executed  all  four 
of  them  at  the  same  instant.  It  was  only  a  delay 
of  a  few  moments  as  he  had  the  fifth  message 
already  written  out,  and  in  his  hand,  so  I  jumped 
on  my  machine,  grabbed  the  message,  and  was 
gone  before  he  knew  what  it  was  all  about.  I 
delivered  the  message  without  a  scratch,  but  I 
think  I  was  insane  at  the  time;  for  it  all  seems 
like  a  dream.  It  was  nothing  short  of  a  miracle. 
The  fighting  was  very  heavy  for  some  days 
after  that,  and  there  was  a  similar  case  that  oc- 
curred shortly  afterward.  This  time  I  was  the 
only  rider  at  hand  and  I  had  to  go.  But  rather 
than  take  another  chance  with  the  barrage  I 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  19 

could  go  across  a  corner  of  No  Man's  Land  and 
circle  around  to  the  left.  This  avoided  the  bar- 
rage, but  I  had  to  face  the  enemy  machine  gun 
fire,  which  was  very  heavy.  I  started  out  on 
my  last  trip,  as  a  dispatcher,  and  was  not  seen 
until  going  over  a  slight  rise,  when  the  enemy 
saw  me.  They  opened  up  on  me  and  threw 
everything  at  me  but  iron  crosses.  The  machine 
gun  was  the  worst,  but  after  three  minutes  of 
hard  riding,  over  rough  ground,  shell-holes  and 
craters,  I  was  out  of  range  of  the  machine  guns. 
Then  they  began  throwing  the  larger  guns  at  me. 
My  machine  was  riddled  with  bullets.  The  en- 
gine was  about  out  of  commission,  but  as  I  was 
through  the  worst  of  it  and  was  shaking  hands 
with  myself  on  how  lucky  I  had  been,  I  realized 
that  I  had  been  hit  in  the  leg  and  after  the  ex- 
citement had  died  down  I  was  so  weak  I  could 
not  sit  on  my  machine  again.  Good  luck  came 
along  in  the  shape  of  a  Frenchman  and  he 
helped  me  to  headquarters  some  500  yards  away. 
I  delivered  the  message  and  then  collapsed  and 
a  few  days  later  awoke  in  a  French  hospital  in 
Paris.  Since  then  I  have  been  having  the  time 
of  my  life,  and  am  back  in  the  dear  old  U.  S. 
now,  almost  well  but  willing  to  go  through  it 
all  again  for  the  same  cause. 


BRINGING  IN  A  "SNIPER" 

AN  INCIDENT  OF  THE  BATTLE  OF  KEMMEL  HILL, 

TOLD    BY   SERGT.    ''JACK''    WINSTON,    55525, 

19TH  BATTALION,  CANADIAN  INFANTRY, 

2nd  CANADIAN  CONTINGENT. 

ABOUT  two  hours  before  dawn  on  the  morn- 
ing of  Oct.  8,  1915,  my  company  were  in  a 
sector  of  the  front  line  trenches  near  Kemmel 
Hill.  My  comrades  were  taking  their  ease  as 
we  had  been  in  comparative  quiet  for  the  pre- 
vious three  days.  They  were  variously  em- 
ployed: some  writing  home,  others  idly  smok- 
ing, the  signal  man  lounging  in  the  dugout  near 
his  telephone  instrument,  and  sundry  others  do- 
ing their  bit  toward  cleanliness  by  removing 
^'cooties"  from  their  shirts.  Our  lieutenant  was 
looking  hard  across  No  Man's  Land  through  the 
trench  periscope,  and  I  wondered  what  was 
keeping  him  so  long  looking  at  a  spot  I  thought 
we  all  knew  by  heart.  He  stood  there  perfectly 
immovable  for  at  least  fifteen  minutes,  while 
several  star-shells,  fired  both  from  our  own 
lines  and  the  German  trenches,  flared  and  died. 
Finally  he  turned  to  me  and  whispered,  "Jack, 

20 


SERGT.   "JACK"   WINSTON 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  21 

I  do  not  remember  that  dead  horse  out  there 
yesterday.  Take  a  look  and  tell  me  if  you 
remember  seeing  it  before."  I  looked  at  the 
spot  indicated  and  sure  enough  there  was  a  dead 
horse  lying  at  the  side  of  a  shell-hole  where  I 
could  have  sworn  there  was  nothing  the  day 
before. 

I  told  the  lieutenant  I  was  sure  that  nothing 
had  been  there  on  the  previous  day,  and  waited 
for  further  orders.  German  snipers  had  annoyed 
us  considerably  and  as  they  took  great  pains 
in  concealing  their  nests  w^e  had  little  success 
in  stopping  them.  Several  casualties  had  re- 
sulted from  their  activities.  The  lieutenant  had 
evidently  been  thinking,  while  taking  his  long 
observation,  for  he  said  almost  at  once:  "I  be- 
lieve that  nag  is  a  neat  bit  of  camouflage.  One 
of  those  Huns  is  probably  hidden  in  that  car- 
cass to  get  a  better  shot  at  us."   • 

He  then  told  me  to  have  the  men  at  the  port- 
holes fire  at  the  carcass,  at  five  second  intervals, 
to  keep  "Fritz,"  if  he  were  there,  under  cover — 
and  taking  advantage  of  the  dark  interval  be- 
tween the  glare  of  the  star-shells,  he  slipped 
"Over  the  Top,"  having  told  me  he  was  going 
to  get  that  Hun. 

Imagine  my  suspense  for  the  next  half  hour. 
I  kept  looking  through  the  periscope  but  for 


22  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

fully  fifteen  minutes  I  could  not  find  my  officer. 
Finally  I  spotted  him  sprawled  out,  apparently 
dead,  as  a  star-shell  lit  up  the  ground  within  the 
range  of  the  periscope.  As  no  shot  had  been 
fired,  except  from  our  portholes,  I  knew  he  was 
not  as  dead  as  he  seemed.  And  sure  enough 
when  next  I  could  make  him  out  he  was  several 
yards  ahead,  and  to  the  left,  of  the  spot  where 
I  had  last  seen  him.  Then  I  knew  what  he  was 
after.  He  was  making  a  detour  to  approach 
the  carcass  from  the  rear,  and  as  he  could  only 
move  in  the  dark  intervals  between  star-shells 
his  progress  was,  of  necessity,  slow.  At  the  end 
of  another  fifteen  minutes  I  located  him  in  a 
position,  as  nearly  as  I  could  judge,  about  ten 
yards  in  the  rear  and  just  a  step  to  the  left  of 
the  carcass.  I  then  thought  it  time  for  me  to 
take  a  hand,  and  give  him  what  help  I  could. 

Running  into  the  signal  man's  dugout  I  told 
him  to  call  for  a  barrage,  giving  the  range  at, 
approximately,  thirty  yards  behind  the  point  at 
which  the  carcass  lay. 

I  then  jumped  back  to  the  periscope  only  to 
see,  by  the  next  flare,  that  the  lieutenant  was  no 
longer  in  sight.  Leaving  the  periscope  I  selected 
three  men,  whom  I  was  sure  I  could  trust,  and, 
by  the  time  I  had  brought  them  to  the  firing 
step,  the  barrage  from  the  guns  in  our  rear  for 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  23 

which  the  signal  man  had  telegraphed  began  to 
fall. 

Quickly  explaining  to  the  men  what  I  had 
in  mind,  that  we  were  going  to  help  the  lieu- 
tenant, I  was  about  to  give  the  order  to  go  "Over 
the  Top,"  when  another  man,  who  had  over- 
heard, begged  me  for  permission  to  accompany 
us,  and  as  I  had  need  for  some  one  to  repair  the 
barbed  wire,  which  the  lieutenant  had  cut  on  his 
way  out,  I  gave  him  the  job  together  with  per- 
mission to  go  with  us. 

After  a  few  words  of  instruction  to  the  cor- 
poral, who,  during  my  absence,  was  left  in  com- 
mand of  our  sector,  we  went  silently  "Over  the 
Top"  at  the  point  where  the  lieutenant  had  pre- 
ceded us. 

The  barrage  had  by  this  time  aroused  the  curi- 
osity of  the  enemy  and  they  were  replying  with 
a  brisk  shelling  of  our  lines,  and  the  batteries 
that  were  laying  down  the  barrage. 

We  advanced  at  a  walk  and  were  fortunate 
enough  to  find  the  place  where  our  lieutenant 
had  cut  his  way  through  our  barbed  wire. 
There  I  left  my  volunteers  with  the  necessary 
tools  to  repair  the  wire,  after  we  should  have 
passed  through  it  on  our  return. 

It  was  now  beginning  to  get  light  enough  for 
us  to  see  several  yards  in  either  direction  around 


24  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

US,  and  after  moving  forward  about  fifty  yards 
beyond  the  wire,  we  ran  straight  into  the  lieu- 
tenant, who  was  driving  the  Hun  before  him  at 
the  muzzle  of  his  automatic. 

We  wasted  no  time  on  the  return  journey  but 
hustled  "Fritzie"  along  at  a  brisk  pace. 

Just  as  we  had  passed  back  through  the  barbed 
wire,  a  piece  of  shrapnel  struck  my  volunteer  in 
the  shoulder,  and  I  was  forced  to  stop,  and  leave 
a  man  to  complete  the  repairs  on  the  wire,  while 
I  helped  the  wounded  man  back  to  the  trenches. 
The  remaining  men,  who  had  started  with  me, 
had  remained  with  the  lieutenant  and  his  pris- 
oner, and  we  found  all  safe  in  the  trench  on  our 
arrival. 

My  wounded  man  proved  to  be  not  seriously 
hurt  and  the  man  who  remained  to  mend  the 
wire  also  returned  unhurt. 

When  all  were  safe  in  the  trench,  the  lieu- 
tenant called  off  the  barrage  and  the  enemy  in 
our  front  was  doubtless  wondering  what  it  was 
all  about,  until  the  sniper,  who,  as  the  lieutenant 
surmised,  was  hidden  in  the  camouflaged  car- 
cass, returned  no  more. 

The  lieutenant  had  arrived  at  a  point  about 
five  paces  behind  the  Hun  before  the  sniper  dis- 
covered him,  and  then  had  him  covered  with 
his  automatic.    Like  most  of  his  breed  there  was 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  25 

a  wide  "yellow  streak"  In  this  baby-killer  and 
he  cried  '^Kamerad"  instantly.  By  the  time  the 
lieutenant  had  secured  his  prisoner's  rifle  our 
barrage  was  falling  and,  under  its  protection, 
he  began  his  march  back  with  the  prisoner,  and 
met  us  before  he  had  gone  twenty-five  yards. 
The  rest  you  know. 

The  prisoner  expected  to  be  killed  at  once 
and  begged  piteously  for  his  life,  saying  "he  had 
'a  wife  and  three  children."  One  of  the  men  re- 
plied that  if  he  had  his  way  he  would  make  it 
a  "widow  and  three  orphans." 

Needless  to  say  he  did  not  have  his  way,  and 
for  all  I  know  that  sniper  is  still  eating  three 
square  meals  per  day  in  a  prison  camp. 


ON  THE  FLANDERS  FRONT 

BY  SERGT.  JACK  WINSTON 

IT  WAS  in  November,  1915 — we  were  at 
Kemmel  Hill,  when  the  wet  weather  started 
in.  I  remember  one  night  I  was  sent  out  of  the 
trenches  to  the  Dump,  near  the  dressing  station, 
for  rations.  We  had  no  communication  trenches 
then,  owing  to  the  heavy  shelling  we  were  get- 
ting from  the  German  artillery,  and  we  never 
had  the  guns  to  come  back  at  them.  We  had 
to  go  out  at  dusk  through  the  fields,  known  to 
us  as  "overland."  We  got  down  to  the  dump 
all  right,  but  coming  back  the  Germans  saw  us, 
and  they  turned  three  machine  guns  on  us.  I 
was  about  fifty  yards  from  the  front  line  when 
the  barrage  started.  My  pal  was  just  behind 
me.  About  four  yards  from  us  was  an  old 
French  trench,  with  about  three  feet  of  water 
in  it.  I  jumped  into  that  with  my  pal.  The 
Germans  kept  the  barrage  up  for  about  a  half 
an  hour  and  as  soon  as  it  stopped  I  made  my 
way  for  the  front  lines. 

Just  imagine  what  condition  I  was  in  when  I 

reached  there.     I  was  soaking  wet,  but  the  ra- 

26 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  27 

tions  were  worse.  Well,  anyhow,  I  had  to  do 
my  sentry  duty,  just  the  same,  because  if  one 
man  was  shy  those  days  it  put  all  the  work  on 
some  of  his  comrades.  1  could  not  get  a  change 
of  clothing  so  I  took  off  my  pants  and  wore  my 
blanket  like  a  Scotchman  would  his  kilts.  It's 
wonderful  to  me  the  hardships  a  man  can  con- 
tend with.  We  could  get  very  little  water  up 
the  front  line  and  water  means  an  awful  lot  to 
a  man  over  there.  Well,  there  was  a  creek  run- 
ning from  the  German  front  line  across  No 
Man's  Land  and  into  our  trench,  and  coming 
over  No  Man's  Land  it  ran  over  quite  a  few 
dead  bodies.  We  were  told  by  our  medical 
officer  not  to  drink  this  water  because  the  Huns 
might  have  put  poison  into  it.  But  we  had  to 
get  water  some  place,  so  we  all  took  a  chance 
and  drank  it,  and  I  am  still  alive  and  just  as 
good  as  ever. 

We  were  in  the  trenches  for  six  days  at  a 
time.  What  good  times  we  used  to  have  when 
we  were  out  in  our  billets.  It  was  there  we 
used  to  get  the  chance  to  have  a  good  feed 
from  the  Belgian  peasants.  "Eggs  and  chips" 
was  our  favorite  dish.  Even  when  the  men  are 
out  of  the  trenches  they  have  to  be  ready  in  case 
of  an  attack.  One  night  we  got  the  orders  from 
the  front  line  that  the  trenches  had  caved  in  and 


28  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

of  course  we  had  to  go  up  ana  help  the  boys 
build  them  up  again. 

It  was  this  night,  while  carrying  up  sand  bags, 
a  bullet  struck  my  right  arm.  I  made  the  front 
line  all  right,  but  as  soon  as  I  was  dressed  by  the 
stretcher  bearer  I  was  sent  back  to  the  dressing 
station  to  the  medical  officer  to  receive  atten- 
tion. I  was  then  sent  to  the  field  hospital,  and 
the  next  day  I  was  removed  on  an  ambulance 
train,  and  sent  to  the  base  hospital  in  Etaples. 
I  might  state  that  this  hospital  was  an  Ameri- 
can hospital.  How  wonderful  it  was  to  me  to 
find  myself  back  in  a  nice  white  bed  again.  I 
was  there  for  two  weeks  and  then  sent  to  a  con- 
valescent hospital  for  another  week. 

At  the  beginning  of  December  I  found  my- 
self on  the  way  back  to  the  front  line.  Of  course 
all  my  pals  who  were  still  there  were  glad  to>?^ 
see  me  again ;  but,  believe  me,  it  was  hard  to 
leave  that  nice  white  bed  and  go  back  ^'some- 
where in  the  mud."  I  made  the  best  of  it.  I 
knew  it  was  doing  my  duty,  as  every  soldier 
does. 

I  had  quite  a  few  narrow  escapes  after  that. 
One  day  as  I  sat  in  the  trench  a  German  high 
explosive  shell  hit  the  next  bay  to  where  I  was 
and  when  they  explode  they  throw  up  with  them 
all  loose  stuff  that  is  in  their  reach.    This  one 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  29 

threw  up  an  old  French  bayonet  which  missed 
my  head  by  about  two  inches,  but  as  long  as  it 
did  not  hit  me  I  should  worry. 

Our  routine  there  was,  six  days  in  the  front 
line,  six  in  the  billets  and  six  in  the  reserve.  The 
only  thing  I  did  not  like  about  the  reserve  was, 
that  the  poor  fellows  that  got  killed  in  the 
trenches,  if  there  was  anything  left  of  them  to 
give  a  decent  burial,  were  brought  out  of  the 
trenches  at  night  and  put  into  an  old  barn  near 
the  dressing  station  until  the  next  morning  for 
burial.  It  was  our  duty  to  watch  the  bodies 
so  that  the  rats  would  not  eat  them.  Just  im- 
agine, about  six  fellows  lying  in  an  old  barn 
all  riddled  with  bullets  and  shrapnel,  and  the 
wind  blowing,  and  the  rain  coming  through,  and 
to  go  and  look  at  these  poor  fellows  with  a  flash 
light.  Some  with  their  heads  and  arms  blown 
off — but  we  had  to  do  it. 

From  Kemmel  Hill  we  were  moved  in 
March,  1916,  to  St.  Eloi,  where  we  put  up  a 
good  scrap  against  heavy  odds.  I  pulled  through 
that  all  right.  I  remember  we  took  some  pris- 
oners. There  was  a  little  Scotchman  in  my  com- 
pany who  was  always  looking  for  souvenirs  and 
he  brought  a  big  German  down  the  trench  and 
made  a  grab  for  his  hat.  The  Dutchman  made 
a  grab  for  it  and  said : 


30  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

"If  you  want  to  catch  a  cold,  I  don't." 

I  thought  that  was  very  funny,  but  Jock  did 
not. 

From  there  we  moved  to  the  Somme  and  it 
was  here  that  the  first  British  tanks  were  used. 
I  got  it  again  on  the  morning  of  September  15 
from  a  German  high  explosive,  was  buried,  re- 
ceiving shell-shock  and  some  wounds.  A  few 
days  later  found  myself  in  a  hospital  and  had 
a  wonderful  time,  but  I  found  that  the  doctors 
would  not  let  me  go  back  to  France,  so  I  was 
returned  to  Canada. 

I  was  in  Canada  tw^o  weeks  when  I  came  over 
to  the  good  old  U.  S.  A.  to  help  recruiting  for 
the  British  and  Canadian  Army.  I  have  worked 
on  the  Liberty  Loan  drives.  Red  Cross,  Knights 
of  Columbus  and  all  other  drives  to  keep  the 
boys  over  there.  One  thing,  to  my  sorrow,  dur- 
ing the  Fourth  Liberty  Loan  drive  was  that  I 
sold  all  the  buttons  of  my  overcoat  to  each  per- 
son who  bought  a  five-hundred-dollar  bond. 
The  only  thing  that  worried  me  was  that  I  never 
had  enough  buttons,  but  as  we  all  know  a  fel- 
low would  not  want  to  have  two  or  three  hun- 
dred buttons  on  his  coat  to  fasten.  I  only  wish 
I  was  in  France  to  stay  to  the  finish,  and  come 
back  with  the  rest  of  the  boys  who  are  left. 


A  ^'DEVIL  DOG'S"  STORY 

BY   PVT.   AL.      BARKER,   NO.    118,   43D  COMPANY, 

5th  regiment,  u.  s.  marines 

THE  U.  S.  declared  war  upon  Germany 
April  6,  1917.  I  was  going  to  college  at 
the  time.  I  went  to  spend  a  week-end  in  New 
York  City  and  happened  to  be  in  Union  Square 
where  recruiting  of  soldiers,  sailors  and  marines 
was  taking  place.  A  captain  of  the  U.  S.  Navy 
was  speaking  on  patriotism.  As  I  stood  there 
and  listened  a  thrill  went  through  me  and  I 
decided  to  enlist  at  once.  I  chose  the  marines 
because  they  were  always  the  "first  to  fight." 
I  was  sent  to  Paris  Island,  South  Carolina,  for 
my  training,  where  I  spent  three  months,  and  on 
August  12,  1917,  I  was  sent  to  Quantico,  Va., 
for  my  overseas  equipment.  On  August  21, 
1917,  I  sailed  for  France. 

The  trip  across  was  a  very  eventful  one  as 
we  were  twice  shot  at  by  submarines,  but  we 
succeeded  in  eluding  them.  Nine  days  later  we 
arrived  at  Brest,  France,  where  we  were  all 
stationed  in  barracks.  My  first  real  training 
began  in  France;  drilled  from  morning  to  night, 

3? 


32  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

together  with  such  things  as  trench  digging, 
bayonet  fighting,  grenade  throwing,  and  all  other 
things  necessary  to  an  American  marine.  This 
lasted  about  three  months.  My  first  real  en- 
counter occurred  when  we  were  ordered  to  the 
Belgian  Front  with  Australian  Anzacs.  There 
I  had  my  first  glimpse  of  the  Germans.  We 
battled  with  them  for  twelve  hours  and  I  re- 
ceived a  bayonet  thrust  in  my  right  foot  which 
laid  me  up  for  three  weeks,  and  I  was  sent  to 
base  hospital  No.  3  near  St.  Lazarre.  After 
I  recovered  I  was  again  sent  to  the  Belgian 
Front  where,  in  the  next  encounter  with  the 
Germans,  I  was  captured  and  sent  to  a  prison 
camp,  built  in  the  German  trenches.  I  was 
there  with  eight  other  marines,  for  twenty-one 
days,  when  a  French  air  squadron  descended 
upon  the  Germans  and  killed  or  wounded  all 
of  them.  A  French  aviator — I  do  not  recall  his 
name — took  me  in  his  machine  and  we  flew  102 
miles  to  the  French  forces. 

Being  weak  from  loss  of  blood  and  sleep  I 
was  kept  there  a  week,  and  then  sent  back  to 
my  own  company.  My  fellow-marines  had 
given  me  up  for  dead,  and  were  more  than  over- 
joyed to  see  me.  A  few  days  later  I  was  selected 
as  a  sniper  with  a  few  others,  and  we  advanced 
to  a  point  as  near  the  Germans  as  possible.    To- 


PRIVATE    "AL"   BARKER 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  33 

gether  with  another  marine,  Jack  Kneeland,  who 
later  saved  my  life,  I  climbed  a  tall  tree  as  near 
as  possible  to  the  German  trenches  and  stationed 
myself  there  very  comfortably. 

We  could  see  the  Germans  setting  machine 
guns  in  position  to  be  used  against  our  forces. 
We  both  had  our  rifles  and  plenty  of  ammuni- 
tion, so  we  began  to  pick  off  the  men  who  were 
operating  the  machine  guns.  These  machine 
guns  are  the  most  disastrous  and  dangerous 
things  in  warfare.  We  succeeded  in  putting 
four  of  these  guns  out  of  commission  when  we 
were  discovered  by  German  snipers,  and  had  all 
we  could  do  to  defend  ourselves.  I  received 
a  bullet  wound  in  my  knee  and  fell  twenty  feet 
to  the  ground.  The  other  marine,  Kneeland, 
quickly  descended  and  protected  me  with  his 
own  body,  and  although  he  received  three  bul- 
lets he  carried  me  to  safety.  As  we  were  far 
from  any  hospital  we  were  treated  in  the  trenches 
to  the  best  of  the  abilities  of  the  doctors  there. 

We  had  Germans  all  around  us,  and,  although 
we  kept  up  a  heavy  fire,  we  could  not  persuade 
them  to  come  out  and  fight  us  as  men.  The^ 
preferred  trying  a  means  to  defeat  us  which 
insured  their  own  safety,  and  that  was  to  try 
to  starve  us  out.  For  six  days  we  lived  on  hard 
black  bread  and  dirty  water.    Our  commander, 


34  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

previous  to  this,  had  sent  out  a  marine,  who 
had  volunteered,  to  get  through  the  German 
lines  and  bring  us  help.  We  never  dreamed  that 
he  would  succeed  in  getting  through,  but  on  the 
seventh  day  we  saw  several  black  specks  in  the 
air  but  thought  nothing  of  them  until  they  came 
close,  and  we  saw  that  they  were  American  air- 
planes come  to  our  assistance.  The  fliers  de- 
scended as  low  as  possible  and  threw  us  food 
in  water-proof  canvas  bags.  They  also  dropped 
bombs  on  the  Germans  and  then  flew  away  after 
promising  to  send  a  company  of  marines  to  our 
rescue.  This  promise  we  found  in  a  note  con- 
tained in  one  of  the  bags  of  food.  It  also  told 
us  to  keep  up  our  courage  as  we  would  surely 
be  saved.  All  this  time  I  was  laid  up  with  the 
wound  in  my  knee,  but  I  could  hear  our  boys 
firing  at  the  enemy,  and  they  had  all  they  could 
do  to  keep  me  in  bed.  Five  days  later  I  was 
aroused  by  an  attendant  and  was  told  that  an 
American  scout  had  succeeded  in  making  his 
way  into  our  trenches,  and  told  us  that  our  re- 
lief was  on  its  way,  and  would  be  here  at  any 
time.  I  felt  much  stronger  after  I  heard  this 
news  and  felt  that  I  could  fight  the  biggest  Ger- 
man and  finish  him. 

The  detachment  of  marines  arrived  after  we 
had  been  in  these  trenches  for  sixteen  days.    We 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  35 

now  outnumbered  the  Germans,  so  we  speedily 
put  them  to  flight.  After  the  conflict  we  counted 
421  German  dead  bodies  and  we  also  took  1,200 
prisoners.  Our  loss  was  sixty-two  dead  and 
thirty  slightly  wounded.  We  were  then  sent  to 
a  rest  camp  where  we  spent  two  weeks,  and  I 
had  my  wound  treated.  At  the  end  of  our  two 
weeks  I  was  able  to  walk  about,  and  was  sent 
to  the  western  front  near  Cambrai  where  the 
Germans  were  gaining,  and  we  were  instructed 
to  stop  them. 

This  time  we  did  not  fight  from  the  trenches 
but  in  the  open  field,  and  there  were  plenty  of 
human  targets  for  both  sides.  It  was  a  terrible 
battle;  shells  were  bursting  in  the  air,  cannons 
were  roaring  and  there  were  loud  reports  every 
time  a  shell  hit  the  dust.  I  was  operating  a 
machine  gun,  and,  as  a  machine  gunner's  life 
on  a  battlefield  only  lasted  an  average  of  twelve 
minutes,  it  must  have  been  a  miracle  that  saved 
me  from  being  killed.  My  other  two  comrades 
were  killed  immediately  and  I  was  left  alone 
to  operate  the  gun.  A  German  sniper  took  a 
shot  at  me,  but  instead  of  hitting  me  he  put  my 
gun  out  of  order.  That  left  me  with  only  a 
revolver,  and  drawing  this  I  kept  popping  away 
at  every  German  I  saw.  At  last  we  were  given 
the  order  to  advance  and  for  the  third  time  I 


36  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

went  "Over  the  Top"  to  glory.  As  wc  pressed  on 
the  enemy  gave  way  little  by  little,  and  by  twelve 
o'clock,  at  noon  (the  battle  had  started  the  day 
before  at  the  same  hour),  we  had  either  killed 
or  taken  all  our  opponents  prisoners.  We  were 
then  given  a  much  needed  rest.  We  spent  a 
month  in  a  rest  camp  and  were  then  sent  to 
Chateau-Thierry,  about  forty  miles  from  Paris, 
where  we  engaged  in  a  battle  which  proved  to 
be  the  turning-point  of  the  war.  I  think  I  shall 
remember  this  fight  all  my  life.  We  had  drawn 
up  all  our  ammunition  trains,  food  supplies  and 
other  munitions  and  were  gathered  around  our 
campfires  telling  stories.  At  a  little  past  mid- 
night we  were  told  to  get  ready.  I  was  in  the 
second  division  and  we  were  ordered  to  advance 
first.  Suddenly  someone  fired  a  shot;  whether 
it  came  from  our  lines  or  the  enemy  I  did  not 
know.  The  battle  had  begun.  With  two  hun- 
dred others  I  was  cut  ofif,  and  we  found  our- 
selves surrounded  by  the  enemy.  It  was  all 
hand-to-hand  fighting,  and  more  than  once  I 
felt  a  hand  creep  to  my  neck,  or  a  cold  blade 
touch  my  face,  but  always  managed  to  ward 
it  ofTf.  Five  hours  of  hard  fighting  still  found 
us  in  the  midst  of  the  Germans.  Whispering  a 
few  words  to  my  nearest  companion,  we  made  a 
dash  and  cut  our  way  through  the  thick  masses 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  37 

of  the  enemy.  Having  no  cover,  we  gathered 
together  the  bodies  of  German  dead  and  piled 
them  one  upon  the  other  and  used  them  as  pro- 
tection against  our  enemies.  While  here  a  gas 
bomb  exploded  and  I  fell  back  unconscious. 
When  I  came  to  myself  I  was  aboard  a  ship 
bound  for  the  good  old  U.  S.  A.  As  I  was  so 
badly  gassed  that  I  would  no  longer  be  useful 
as  a  fighter,  they  were  sending  me  home.  I 
made  a  good  recovery  and  I  thank  God  for  my 
life. 

That  is  my  story,  and  if  I  had  to  go  through 
it  again  I  would  do  it  gladly  for  my  country  and 
the  flag. 


IN  THE  VERDUN   SECTOR 

BY  CORP.  FRANK  J.  SEARS,  CO.  A,  9TH  INFANTRY, 

2d  DIV.,  A.E.F. 

IN  THE  winter  of  1917  we  found  ourselves 
marching  along  a  little  road  somewhere  in 
France.  It  was  cold  and  dismal  and  the  hail 
came  down  in  sheets,  but  we  marched  on  and 
on.  I  looked  at  the  fellow  alongside  of  me  and 
could  not  tell  whether  he  was  ready  to  laugh 
or  cry.  There  was  not  much  talking  en  route. 
I  didn't  feel  much  like  talking  myself  and 
couldn't  understand  what  made  me  feel  so  down- 
hearted. It  was  the  day  we  all  looked  and  hoped 
for  our  chance  in  the  battle.  When  we  took 
over  our  sector,  one  kilometer  from  St.  Mihiel, 
the  French  told  us  it  was  a  quiet  sector  and  to 
keep  it  that  way.  The  first  four  days  we  did 
not  care  how  quiet  it  was  so  long  as  we  were 
allowed  down  in  the  dugouts.  The  shells  whiz- 
zing past  our  heads  annoyed  us  a  little,  it  being 
our  first  experience.  It  took  us  a  few  days  to 
become  accustomed  to  our  new  home  and  the 

noise  of  bursting  shrapnel.    We  knew  we  were 

38 


CORPORAL   FRANK   J.    SEARS 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  39 

not  going  to  stay  there  long.  In  the  American 
Army  we  never  do  linger  long  in  one  place  as 
there  is  no  retreat  in  our  army. 

There  was  only  one  direction  for  us  to  follow 
and  that  was  toward  Berlin. 

The  idea  of  the  French  telling  us  to  keep  Ver- 
dun sector  quiet  amused  us,  for,  while  we  had  no 
desire  to  start  anything  for  a  few  days,  there 
wasn't  a  "yellow"  man  in  our  bunch.  Yet  we 
hesitated,  before  we  became  accustomed  to  the 
noise,  to  take  our  first  chance  at,  what  we  termed, 
slaughter.  However,  one  night,  about  seven  days 
after  we  took  over  our  sector  with  the  French 
Army,  a  "Fritz"  sent  over  one  of  his  77  shrap- 
nel shells  which  wiped  out  our  entire  mess  shack. 
That  was  a  bad  mistake  on  "Fritzie's"  part 
for  it  was  a  serious  offense  for  anybody  to  tam- 
per with  the  Sammie's  "chow."  No  matter  how 
hard  a  night  he  has  spent  he  will  always  get  up 
an  appetite  where  there  is  anything  to  eat.  That 
night  we  formed  a  raiding  party.  We  crept 
out  of  the  first  line  trench  with  three  squads.  It 
was  our  first  entry  into  No  Man's  Land  and  we 
had  heard  so  many  strange  tales  about  this  place, 
we  shied  at  everything  we  saw\  We  split  up  into 
squads.  Our  password  was  to  knock  three  times 
on  the  helmet.  So  we  parted.  I  went  off  to  the 
right  with  a   squad.     Each  man   covered   his 


40  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

ground,  trying  to  find  out  whether  the  Hun  had 
any  intention  of  making  a  raid  next  day.  The 
trenches  are  protected  by  barbed-wire  fences  and 
when  the  Huns  intend  going  ''Over  the  Top" 
they  cut  the  wires  on  the  previous  night,  and  it 
was  our  duty  to  find  out  whether  or  not  these 
wires  had  been  cut.  The  barbed  wire  was  O.  K. 
on  the  ground  we  covered,  so  we  started  back  to 
meet  the  other  squads.  We  did  not  go  far,  for 
about  ten  feet  away  we  heard  a  noise,  which  is 
something  unusual  on  a  raiding  party  in  No 
Man's  Land.  We  stopped  short  and  looked  at 
each  other.  We  did  not  know  what  to  do,  for,  as 
I  have  said,  this  was  our  first  experience.  One 
of  the  boys  said  to  me,  ''Give  them  the  signal." 
I  knocked  three  times  on  my  helmet,  but  re- 
ceived no  reply,  so  one  of  the  boys  said  he  would 
creep  over  and  investigate ;  but  it  wasn't  neces- 
sary, because  just  then  a  skyrocket  went  up  into 
the  air.  Every  soldier  knows  that  this  means 
to  get  under  cover  quickly  for  the  rocket  would 
light  up  the  sky  and  make  nice  targets  of  us  foij 
*'Fritz."  Luckily  for  us  there  was  a  shell-hole 
to  jump  into,  for  as  soon  as  we  laid  low,  there 
came  the  "pop,"  "pop,"  "pop"  of  the  German 
machine  guns.  We  laid  there  in  the  mud, 
through  what  seemed  to  us  like  an  eternity,  but 
which   was   in  reality   only   about   two   hours. 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  41 

However,  luck  was  with  us,  and  we  finally 
crawled  out  of  our  hiding  place  and  arrived  be- 
hind our  own  lines  once  more. 

Editor's  Note. — For  his  gallantry  in  this  raid, 
of  which  he  says  nothing  in  the  above  article, 
Corporal  Sears  was  awarded  the  "Croix  de 
Guerre"  by  the  French  Government. 

— H.  L.  F. 


THE  HUN  I  WAS  SURE  I  "GOT" 

BY  CORP.  FRANK  J.  SEARS 

IT  WAS  sometime  last  April,  1918,  when  we 
got  the  order  we  were  going  over.  Our  artil- 
lery opened  up  with  a  full  barrage.  We  took  the 
right  flank,  and  another  regiment  of  infantry 
took  the  left.  The  marines  took  the  center.  We 
had  been  told  time  and  time  again  if  we  had  to 
use  the  bayonet  to  pull  it  out  quick.  But  some- 
how or  other  I  was  doubtful  about  that.  We 
were  having  a  real  American  hand-to-hand  fight 
with  them  when  I  got  my  eye  on  one,  some- 
thing we  very  seldom  do.  Just  as  I  got  near 
him  he  threw  his  gun  down,  and  his  hands  up, 
and  yelled:  "Kamerad,  Kamerad."  I  said 
*'Kamerad,  hell,"  and  became  so  excited  I  gave 
him  a  long  jab  with  my  old  American  bayonet 
and  hesitated  before  making  an  attempt  to  pull 
it  out.  When  I  tried  to,  it  was  too  late  for  it 
was  wedged  in  too  firmly.  I  put  my  foot  on 
him  and  pulled  and  pulled,  but  the  body  lifted 
right  up  with  the  bayonet,  so  I  thought  I'd  try 

my  luck  without  a   bayonet.     I   released   the 

42 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  43 

bayonet  from  my  rifle  and  left  It  as  an  American 
souvenir  to  the  "Fritz" ;  one  which  he  will  never 
be  able  to  appreciate.  This  is  all  I  remember 
of  that  battle. 


LIFE   IN   THE   TRENCHES 

BY  CORP.   FRANK  SEARS 

LIFE  in  the  trenches  is  made  up  of  "cooties," 
"rats,"  "mud"  and  "gas  masks." 
We  had  heard  from  fellows  who  had  been 
there  before  us  what  we  thought  were  jokes 
about  "cooties"  and  trench  rats,  but  it  was  no 
joke  to  me  when  I  looked,  for  the  first  time,  at 
a  rat  almost  as  big  as  a  cat.  It  was  lying  in 
my  bunk  and  I  heard  it  squeal.  Looking  down 
I  had  my  first  view  of  a  trench  rat.  I  threw 
a  heavy  hob-nailed  shoe  at  him  and  he  merely 
changed  his  position  and  looked  around  to  see 
who  had  interrupted  him.  After  that  it  wasn't 
strange  to  wake  up  and  find  them  running  across 
you.  But  I  will  say  that  if  it  were  a  matter  of 
choice,  I  would  select  a  hundred  rats  in  pref- 
erence to  two  "cooties,"  for  the  "cootie"  is  an  un- 
reasonable bird,  and  when  a  Sammie  has  come 
back  from  the  lines  exhausted,  he  lays  down  in 
the  hopes  of  snatching  a  few  hours'  sleep  before 
being  called  on ;  but  the  "cooties"  have  no  respect 
for  Sammie  and  they  pester  him  until  he  has 

44 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  45 

no  more  Idea  of  sleep,  only  to  start  in  and  hunt 
for  the  "cooties"  that  are  annoying  him. 

You  have  all  more  or  less  had  fever,  but  I 
guess  there  are  none  of  you,  over  here,  who 
knows  of  the  "mud  fever."  We  all  used  to  shy 
at  mud,  during  the  rainy  season  in  the  year  1917. 
After  a  heavy  storm  the  boys  hated  to  go  out 
to  drill,  as  the  mud  got  so  bad  there  that  the 
only  way  of  getting  out  from  the  drill  was  by 
going  on  sick  report  in  the  morning.  I  remem- 
ber the  morning  six  buddies  and  myself  went 
over  to  the  infirmary.  I  happened  to  be  the  first 
one  in  line.    The  doctor  came  up  to  me  and  said : 

"What's  your  trouble?" 

At  first  I  said,  "I  don't  know,  sir,"  and  he 
said: 

"Well,  what  are  you  doing  here  if  you  don't 
know?    Where  do  you  feel  sick?" 

And  I  told  him  all  over.  So  he  called  the  pill 
roller  over  and  told  him  to  take  my  tempera- 
ture. I  sat  down  and  the  pill  roller  put  the  glass 
tube  in  my  mouth,  which  always  "balled  the  de- 
tail up."  He  then  held  hands  with  me  for  a 
while  and  I  asked  him  what  he  was  doing.  He 
told  me  he  was  taking  my  pulse.  He  then  gave 
the  final  report  to  the  "skipper"  who  came  to 
me  and  said,  "You  have  the  'mud  fever'."  He 
then  turned  to  the  orderly  and  said,  "Give  him 


46  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

two  C.C.pills  and  mark  him  'DUTY'."  That's 
how  I  happened  to  get  over  the  mud  fever.  We 
became  so  used  to  mud,  up  in  the  lines,  that  if 
our  "chow"  did  not  have  some  mud,  or  muddy 
water,  in  it  we  could  not  digest  it.  It  was  just  a 
case  of  mud  all  over:  eat,  drink,  sleep  and  wash 
in  mud. 

And  now  for  the  ''old  reliable,"  which  tor- 
tured us  while  wearing  it,  but  without  which 
we  should  have  been  lost.    The  gas  mask!!! 

We  were  not  fortunate  enough  to  have  ever 
received  the  American  gas  masks  and  have  never 
seen  one  over  there.  The  first  two  American 
divisions  received  English  and  French  masks. 
The  English  mask  looks  like  a  false  face  with 
two  big  glass  eyes,  and  a  nose  clip  which  re- 
sembles a  clothespin,  and  keeps  the  gas  from 
going  through  the  nostrils.  There  is  also  a  tube 
which  goes  into  the  mouth,  with  a  hard  piece  of 
rubber  on  it  to  make  it  air-tight.  This  mouth- 
piece is  a  long  caterpillar  tube  which  connects 
the  mask  to  a  tin  can  containing  a  chemical  com- 
position of  charcoal,  rocks,  sand  and  other  medi- 
cal decoctions.  There  were  times  when  we 
endured  these  masks  from  eighteen  to  thirty-six 
hours.  Sometimes  we  would  just  get  the  order 
to  take  them  off,  and,  thinking  the  danger  passed, 
would  get  ready  to  eat,  when  the  command  to 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  47 

put  them  on  again  would  be  given.  This  is  done 
by  means  of  horns  at  intervals  along  the  whole 
line  of  trenches.  Each  horn  gives  the  signal 
which  is  repeated  right  through  the  lines.  It 
is  a  wonderful  relief  after  having  a  mask  on  a 
long  time  to  be  able  to  breathe  fresh  air  again. 


TWO  YEARS  IN  THE  YPRES  SALIENT 

AS  TOLD  BY  PRIVATE  ALBERT  FRANKLIN  EDWARDS, 

NO.  6857,  1st  battalion,  1st  brigade,  1st 

DIV.,  CANADIAN  INFANTRY 

Editor's  Note. — These  were  the  first  Cana- 
dians to  go  overseas  in  the  Great  War. 

— H.  L.  F. 

I  WAS  born  In  Canada,  but  had  lived  vir- 
tually all  my  life  in  the  United  States.  I 
thought  war  was  coming  and  returned  to  Can- 
ada to  be  ready  to  do  my  bit  when  the  time 
arrived;  and  I  was  just  in  time;  arriving  in 
Toronto  on  August  3,  1914.  On  August  4,  1914, 
I  was  at  dinner  with  seven  other  boys  when  the 
word  came  that  war  was  declared,  and  the  whole 
eight  of  us  determined  to  get  in  it  without  delay, 
so  on  the  next  day,  August  5th,  we  enlisted  in  the 
Canadian  dragoons. 

After  two  weeks  in  the  dragoons  I  was  trans- 
ferred to  the  infantry,  went  into  training  at  To- 
ronto, and  afterward  at  Valcartier,  which  occu- 
pied the  next  two  months. 

One  Sunday  morning  we  were  called  for  pa- 
rade and  thought  we  were  going  to  church,  but 

48 


PRIVATE  A.   F.   EDWARDS 


'ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  49 

were  notified  we  had  to  pack  up  for  overseas 
service.  We  went  to  Montreal  where  we  took 
a  boat  down  the  St.  Lawrence  to  Halifax.  We 
there  joined  the  convoy  consisting  of  33,000  men 
of  the  artillery  and  infantry. 

We  sailed  for  England  on  October  22,  1914, 
and  as  nearly  as  I  can  remember  took  about  six- 
teen days  to  make  the  trip  to  Plymouth.  Though 
slow  the  voyage  was  without  incident  worthy 
of  mention. 

We  were,  for  some  unknown  reason,  held  five 
days  in  Plymouth  Harbor  before  disembarking, 
and  then  they  hustled  us  off  to  the  training  camp 
on  Salisbury  Plains  where  we  had  a  miserable 
existence  until  February,  1915. 

At  Salisbury  we  drilled  in  mud  and  water 
that  was  at  times  waist  deep,  caused  by  the  con- 
tinuous rains  and  floods.  It  sure  was  fine  train- 
ing for  the  Flanders  mud  that  we  were  to  en- 
counter later.  The  storms  were  so  severe  at 
times  that  tents  and  their  contents  were  washed 
away. 

As  a  result  an  epidemic  of  spinal  meningitis 
hit  the  camp,  and  of  the  33,000  who  arrived  at 
Salisbury  4,400  were  stricken  with  this  disease, 
only  a  few  of  whom  recovered. 

While  at  Salisbury  I  was  granted  my  first 
leave  and  started  for  London,  together  with  my 


50  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

pal,  a  boy  named  Frazer,  who  also  had  leave. 
We  had  three  days'  absence  from  camp  coming 
to  us  and  they  were  "some  three  days." 

We  arrived  in  London  at  5.15  P.  M.  and,  in 
accord  with  English  custom,  had  tea  at  once  in 
the  Corner  House,  Piccadilly,  where  many  sol- 
diers congregated. 

At  the  Corner  House  we  received  sixty-one 
invitations  to  the  theater  and  dinner  for  the  next 
day.  That  night  we  attended  the  Princess  The- 
ater where,  as  we  entered,  the  orchestra  played 
the  Canadian  anthem,  "The  Maple  Leaf  For- 
ever." The  audience  cheered  and  we  were 
forced  to  make  a  speech.  You  see,  we  were  the 
first  Canadians  the  English  people  had  seen  who 
had  come  to  do  their  bit.  That  night  I  lost  track 
of  Frazer. 

After  three  wonderful  days  I  returned  to 
camp  as  my  leave  had  expired.  Frazer  was  not 
on  the  train  with  me,  and  as  a  matter  of  fact  did 
not  arrive  until  twenty-four  hours  later.  He  was 
called  before  the  colonel  for  overstaying  his 
leave,  and,  on  being  questioned,  told  the  colonel 
that  just  as  he  arrived  at  the  railroad  station 
a  band  started  playing  "God  Save  the  King" 
and  he  had  to  stand  at  attention  so  long  that  he 
missed  the  train. 

He  was  excused  and  returned  to  duty,  but  they 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  51 

do  say  there  was  a  suspicious  twinkle  in  the 
colonel's  eye  as  he  dismissed  him.  I  sometimes 
wish  I  had  Frazer's  powers  of  quick  invention. 

On  February  3rd  we  left  Salisbury  encamp- 
ment, en  route  for  France,  landing  at  St.  La- 
zarre,  thence  by  train  to  Hazebrouck  and  St. 
Omer  where  the  fever  laid  me  up  in  the  hospital 
for  about  ten  days. 

I  joined  the  battalion  again  at  Armentieres 
where  we  remained  a  few  days  and  then  went 
forward  to  Ypres.  On  April  22,  1915,  we  went 
into  battle  at  Ypres  and  for  the  first  time  in  his- 
tory were  called  upon  to  meet  a  gas  attack  by 
the  Germans.  ' 

Editor's  Note. — This  w^as  the  first  time  this 
inhuman  method  of  warfare  was  used  by  a  sup- 
posedly civilized  nation. 

H.  L.  F. 

At  first  we  thought  the  gas  we  saw  coming 
toward  us  was  a  bank  of  fog  and  it  gave  us  no 
anxiety.  It  was  at  4.30  P.  M.  that  the  Huns 
turned  the  gas  on  us,  and  I  was  fortunate  to  be 
in  the  first  battalion  at  a  point  where  the  gas 
was  not  so  thick.  The  thickest  part  of  the  gas 
swept  over  the  8th,  10th,  11th,  13th,  14th,  15th 
and  16th  battalions.  Eighty-five  per  cent  of  the 
men  who  met  this  attack  were  more  or  less  se- 


52  ALLIED  OFERSE/IS  STORIES 

vcrcly  gassed.  At  points  the  gas  was  so  severe 
that  it  turned  the  brass  buttons,  on  the  tunics  of 
the  men,  green.  Some  of  the  men  killed  by  gas 
fell,  but  some  remained  standing  even  in  death 
so  swift  was  its  action. 

Our  artillery,  although  short  of  ammunition, 
was  our  main  support  in  this  action.  Had  the 
Germans  forced  a  passage  here,  the  roads  to 
Paris,  Calais  and  the  English  coast  would  have 
been  virtually  open.  There  were  72,000  Ger- 
mans opposed  to  13,000  Canadian  infantry  in 
this  action,  but  the  boys  from  Canada  held  fast. 

The  next  day,  April  23rd,  a  small  fragment 
of  shrapnel  in  my  right  hand  sent  me  to  the  hos- 
pital in  Boulogne.  Fine  treatment  by  the 
American  doctors  and  nurses  there  soon  had  me 
in  shape  again  and  I  was  returned  to  the  line 
through  the  Canadian  base  at  Le  Havre.  Thence 
I  went  through  Festubert  to  Givenchy  where 
the  old  1st  Battalion  went  into  battle  with  919 
men  and  six  hours  later  over  600  had  made  the 
great  sacrifice.  Minor  casualties  left  us  only 
137  men  able  to  answer  roll  call  and  several  of 
these  had  to  go  to  the  hospital  on  account  of 
wounds  received  here. 

The  first  week  of  July  we  went  to  Ploegstreet 
which  we  called  "home"  for  a  long  time.    We 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  53 

called  Ploegstreet  "home"  because  it  was  so 
peaceful.  (The  Germans  dared  not  shell  us  as 
we  were  so  close  to  their  trenches  that  they  were 
afraid  of  hitting  their  own  men.)  The  shell 
craters  through  which  our  trenches  ran  were 
only  thirteen  yards  from  the  trenches  of  the  en- 
emy, and  we  could  hear  the  Saxons  who  opposed 
us  singing  songs  in  English  which  they  all 
seemed  to  speak  fluently. 

One  night  I  was  on  patrol  when  our  party 
passed  German  patrol  not  five  yards  distant. 
Neither  side  dared  fire  for  fear  of  starting  the 
machine  gun  fire.  One  of  the  Saxons  called  out, 
"Hello,  Canuck,  how's  Quebec,  Winnipeg  and 
Vancouver?" 

Evidently  he  had  been  in  Quebec  as  he  spoke 
of  the  St.  Regis  Hotel. 

At  Ploegstreet  the  British  had  started  a  "sap" 
forty-eight  feet  deep  where  a  tunnel,  with 
twenty-five  galleries  running  off  from  it,  under- 
mined the  town.  It  took  two  years  to  build  and 
was  planted  with  one  hundred  thousand  tons  of 
high  explosive  dynamite.  When  it  was  exploded 
it  blew  up  the  entire  town  and  also  blew  61,000 
Huns  "Hell,  west  and  crooked." 

This  was  the  only  way  to  take  the  position  as 
the  elaborate  trench  system  of  the  Germans  was 
practically  impregnable.    It  was  at  Ploegstreet 


54  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

that  the  Huns  "got  our  goat"  by  showing  the 
wearing  apparel  of  Belgian  girls  on  the  points 
of  their  bayonets. 

After  exploding  the  mine  we  explored  the 
German  trenches  and  found  most  wonderful  un- 
derground living  quarters  for  the  troops  fitted 
with  every  modern  convenience. 

We  remained  here  three  and  a  half  months 
and  then  were  moved  to  Kemmel  to  the  C-4 
trenches,  where  we  spent  the  winter.  Here  I 
was  taken  sick  and  sent  to  the  hospital  at  Bail- 
leu,  and  returned  to  duty  again  at  Cambrai,  and 
thence  went  to  St.  Quentin. 

Remained  at  St.  Quentin  until  September 
17th,  when  I  had  a  piece  of  shrapnel  lodge  in 
my  arm  and  was  burned  by  a  shell  while  trying 
to  dig  out  a  comrade  in  a  similar  predicament, 
except  that  he  died  before  we  got  him  out.  I 
was  buried,  but  conscious,  for  four  hours  and 
twenty  minutes,  and  I  thought  of  every  event  of 
my  life  in  that  time.  When  finally  rescued,  the 
fresh  air  and  reaction  were  too  much  for  me, 
and  I  lost  consciousness,  which  I  did  not  regain 
until  I  was  in  England  in  the  Duchess  of  Con- 
naught's  Hospital.  I  had  been  sent  there  by  way 
of  Le  Havre  and  remained  six  months  in  bed  in 
a  plaster  cast.  I  was  then  returned  to  a  hospital 
ship  and  taken  to  St.  John,  New  Brunswick, 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  55 

where  I  received  electrical  and  massage  treat- 
ment. From  St.  John  I  went  to  the  convalescent 
hospital  at  Fredericton,  N.  B.,  and  was  dis- 
charged on  August  19,  1918. 


A  NIGHT  ADVENTURE 

AS  TOLD  BY  PRIVATE  ALBERT  FRANKLIN  EDWARDS, 

NO.  6857,  1st  battalion,  1st  brigade,  1st 

DIVISION,  CANADIAN  INFANTRY 

ONE  night  in  October,  1915,  while  on  pa- 
trol, I  found  an  officer,  and  a  private,  of 
the  Prussian  Guard,  fooling  around  our  wire 
entanglements.  They  had  evidently  been  under 
our  fire  as  the  officer  was  suffering  from  three 
abdominal  wounds  and  died  as  I  was  trying  to 
drag  him  into  our  lines. 

The  private  was  a  big  fellow  about  six  feet 
three  inches  tall  and  was  furious  at  being  cap- 
tured. As  I  had  him  at  my  bayonet's  point  he 
gave  me  no  trouble,  but  when  we  arrived  at  our 
lines  he  took  it  out  on  the  sentry  by  spitting  at 
him  and  slapping  him  in  the  face. 

We  sat  Mr.  Prussian  on  the  firing  step  and 
told  him  a  few  things  that  would  not  look  well 
in  this  book,  and  he  finally  spoke  in  English, 
when  we  called  the  escort  to  get  what  informa- 
tion we  could  from  him.  He  asked  after  some 
friends  he  had  made  at  Columbia  College,  New 

York  City,  where  he  had  been  educated.     He 

56 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  57 

told  us  that  just  before  the  war  broke  out  he 
had  been  called  back  to  Germany,  supposedly 
to  attend  a  military  fete,  as  he  was  still  subject 
to  military  service.  He  had  no  idea,  he  said, 
that  he  was  going  to  be  sent  to  war  and  he  had 
been  drugged  and  sent  into  battle,  forced  on  by 
officers  in  the  rear.  After  we  had  "pumped  him 
dry"  he  was  handed  over,  together  with  four- 
teen other  prisoners,  who  were  taken  the  same 
night,  and  sent  to  the  cage,  four  miles  to  the 
rear.  On  the  way  to  the  cage  he  complained  to 
a  soldier,  in  the  guard  accompanying  the  pris- 
oners, of  the  difficulty  of  marching  through  the 
mud,  which  was  very  deep.  The  guard  told  him 
he  should  be  thankful  that  he  was  not  in  his  (the 
guard's)  place,  as  he  had  to  walk  back  again. 

I  should  have  stated  before  that  I  cut  off  the 
buttons  from  the  officer's  uniform  when  he  died 
and  kept  them  together  with  his  field  glasses  as 
souvenirs.  I  have  them  still  as  no  one  has 
claimed  them. 


/' 


A  MACHINE  GUNNER'S  STORY 

by  machine  gunner  george  eckhart,  no. 
165688,  1st  m.  g.  batt.,  1st  div.,  a.e.f. 

I  ENLISTED  in  the  service  of  my  country 
April  6,  1917,  when  we  declared  war  on 
Germany.  I  was  sent  to  Fort  Douglas,  Arizona, 
in  the  same  month,  put  in  the  18th  Infantry, 
Regular  Army. 

On  June  4,  1917,  we  got  orders  to  pack  up 
and  leave  for  another  camp,  and  one  night  when 
our  train  came  to  a  halt  I  got  up  from  bed  and 
said  to  the  boys: 

"Boys,  we  are  in  Hoboken,"  and  we  all  knew 
then  where  we  were  going. 

We  got  on  the  transports  the  same  night  about 
eleven  o'clock.  There  were  a  lot  of  sad  faces 
watching  their  dear  boys  going  "Over  There" 
to  fight  to  make  the  world  safe  for  Democracy. 

We  sailed  away  from  dear  old  America,  June 
14,  1917.  When  we  passed  the  Statue  of  Liberty 
we  watched  her  holding  the  light  of  freedom 
and  strained  our  eyes  as  our  transport  moved 
out  into  the  ocean  for  a  last  look  at  her,  wonder- 

58 


MACHINE  GUNNER   GEORGE  ECKHART 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  59 

ing  if  we  would  ever  see  that  dear  old  Statue  of 
Liberty  again. 

We  had  a  pleasant,  fourteen-day  trip  across 
the  ocean.  And  one  bright  morning  we  saw 
land.  All  the  boys  shouted  "France,  we  have 
come  to  you."  Four  hours  later  we  were  beside 
our  dock,  and  got  off  the  boats.  All  the  French 
people  kissed  us  and  were  glad  to  see  America 
come  to  help  her  sister  republic. 

The  French  people  shouted  "Vive  la  Amer- 
ica." We  shouted  back  "Vive  la  France."  We 
had  a  big  reception  and  the  peasants  took  us 
around  and  showed  us  the  villages. 

We  did  not  stay  there  long,  but  moved  toward 
the  front  where  we  could  hear  the  thundering 
of  the  artillery  barrages.  We  had  two  months 
of  strenuous  training  with  the  French  Blue 
Devils. 

After  completing  our  training  period  we  got 
orders  that  we  were  going  to  go  to  the  Front. 
One  day,  before  we  left  to  undertake  the  biggest 
job  in  the  world,  our  general  (General  Bullard) 
held  an  inspection,  and  gave  us  a  talk. 

He  said,  "Boys,  you  are  going  to  tackle  a  real 
job  tomorrow,  and  show  the  Huns  what  kind 
of  stufif  the  Yanks  are  made  of." 

All  of  the  boys  yelled,  "We  are  with  you, 
general,  until  the  end.     We  are  going  to  give 


6o  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

them  hell!  and,  we  won't  go  back  until  it's  over, 
over  here." 

The  next  day  we  were  ready  to  move  to  the 
Front.  The  colonel  gave  the  command,  and  we 
marched  off.    We  had  to  walk  fifty  miles. 

As  we  came  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  front, 
the  guns  were  roaring  and  machine  guns  rattled 
away  like  fire.  The  first  division,  consisting  of 
the  18th  Infantry,  26th  Infantry,  16th  and  18th 
Infantry,  started  to  sing,  "Hail,  Hail,  the  Gang's 
All  Here!"  At  last  we  arrived  at  the  Front. 
Our  French  comrades  hailed  us,  and  were  sur- 
prised and  overjoyed  to  see  the  Yanks  coming 
to  relieve  them  and  give  them  a  rest. 

Company  after  company  moved  in  and  re- 
lieved the  French  division  and  as  they  moved 
out  they  bid  us  all  the  luck  in  the  world. 

This  front  was  the  Lorraine  front,  Luneville 
Sector.  The  next  day,  October  14,  1917,  our 
artillery  fired  the  first  shells  into  the  German 
trenches. 

The  Germans  got  kind  of  restless  and  won- 
dered who  was  facing  them.  They  sent  out  a 
patrolling  party  to  gather  information.  But  we 
boys  were  a  little  too  wise  and  our  patrol  party 
captured  this  German  party  and  brought  them 
in.  When  they  came  in  our  trenches  they  asked 
us  who  we  were.    I  spoke  up  and  said,  "We  are 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  6i 

Americans,"  and  the  German  officer  who  spoke 
a  little  English  said,  "No!  No!  you  are  not  an 
American.  You  are  English  in  American  uni- 
forms." But  they  soon  found  out  that  we  avere 
Americans  and  we  did  "treat  'em  rough!" 

I  was  now  transferred  to  a  machine  gun  com- 
pany and  was  on  duty  one  night  about  1 1.30.  It 
was  very  cold.  My  loader  Frank  Martin  and 
I  were  talking  quietly  about  our  dear  homes 
across  the  sea.  Suddenly  the  German  machine 
guns  opened  up  and  we  ducked  down  in  our 
own  gun  emplacement  and  could  hear  the  bul- 
lets hissing  over  our  heads.  Then  it  was  silent 
again.  We  knew  the  Huns  were  getting  restless 
so  our  signal  captain  sent  up  a  "very  light" 
which  lights  up  No  Man's  Land.  And  we  saw 
about  5,000  Prussian  guards  coming  at  us  with 
bayonets  fixed.  I  held  fast  to  my  trigger,  wait- 
ing for  orders. 

The  lieutenant  came  to  me  and  said,  "George, 
don't  get  nervous.  We  are  going  to  get  them  in 
a  trap."    And  I  said : 

"Lieutenant,  do  you  think  I  will  ever  see  the 
Statue  of  Liberty  again?" 

He  said,  "Cheer  up,  George,  I  will  send  the 
order  soon." 

So  they  fired  another  "very  light"  and  there 


62  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

they  were  100  yards  from  where  I  was  stationed. 
All  was  quiet.    We  kept  still  as  mice. 

Then  suddenly  a  big  red  rocket  went  up  which 
called  for  an  artillery  barrage  and  I  heard  the 
shells  of  our  artillery  firing  behind  the  Germans 
so  they  could  not  go  back  to  their  own  lines. 
This  was  followed  by  two  red  rockets,  meaning 
direct  fire  from  our  own  machine  guns.  And 
then  I  yelled,  "Here's  where  the  suicide  club 
shines,"  and  opened  up. 

We  gave  them  all  the  "presents"  they  wanted. 
My  machine  gun  was  red  hot,  and  my  hands 
were  burning,  but  I  didn't  mind  that.  We  were 
going  to  get  them  and  give  them  what  they  de- 
served. 

We  gave  them  "sweeping  fire"  and  mowed 
them  down  like  grass.  Daylight  came  and  there 
were  the  Prussian  Guards  in  big  piles,  dead  and 
wounded.  We  certainly  did  catch  them  in  a 
trap. 

That  morning  I  went  into  the  dugout  and  we 
boys  sat  around  on  bundles  of  straw  and  sang 
some  songs  and  told  stories  and  jokes. 

When  the  mail  man  would  come  around  with 
the  letters  from  home,  we  would  gather  around 
him  and  listen  for  our  names  to  be  called. 

The  boys  that  got  letters  from  their  dear 
mothers  had   smiles  on   their   faces   and   were 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  63 

happy,  knowing  their  mothers  were  thinking  of 
them.  And  those  that  didn't  get  letters  were  sad 
and  disgusted  and  would  have  tears  rolling  down 
their  cheeks. 

We  stayed  on  that  front  two  months.  Christ- 
mas was  on  its  way,  and  we  went  back  for  a 
rest.  At  Christmas  time  all  the  boys  gave  ten 
francs  (two  dollars,  U.  S.  money)  to  give  the 
little  children  of  France  a  real  American  Christ- 
mas. 

After  six  days  of  preparation,  we  went  to  the 
Salvation  Army  hut  and  had  a  big  entertain- 
ment. Elsie  Janis  was  the  chief  entertainer. 
After  the  entertainment  was  over  we  all  returned 
to  bed. 

The  next  day  the  church  bells  rang  out  and 
the  little  children  ran  about  wild  with  joy.  The 
Yankee  soldiers  gave  the  children  candy,  cakes, 
pies  and  other  little  presents  and  they  could  not 
get  over  it,  as  they  never  had  a  Christmas  like 
that  before. 

Editor's  Note. — The  simple  pathos  of  this 
story  so  appealed  to  me,  that,  knowing  no  words 
of  mine  could  so  vividly  depict  the  feelings  of 
this  hero,  I  have  given  it  to  the  readers  of  the 
book  without  revision.  I  simply  desire  to  add 
that  the  action  which  he  describes  in  the  above 
story  was  the  first  of  the  Great  War  participated 
in  by  American  Troops.  H.  L.  F. 


THE    FALL   OF   CANTIGNY 

BY  MACHINE  GUNNER  GEORGE  ECKHART 

BEFORE  proceeding  with  my  second  story, 
I  wish  to  state  that  Cantigny  Village  was 
the  first  town  ever  captured  by  the  American 
troops  in  this  war,  and  also  the  first  battle  we 
ever  had.  My  division,  the  "First,"  known  all 
over  France  as  the  "Black  Jack"  Division,  was 
named  after  General  "Black  Jack"  Pershing. 

After  leaving  Lorraine  front  and  spending 
Christmas  behind  the  lines,  we  were  ordered  to 
a  more  active  front  in  Picardy,  where  some  of 
the  biggest  battles  have  taken  place  during  this 
Great  War. 

We  relieved  the  2nd  French  Colonial  Divi- 
sion and  took  over  their  sector.  We  faced  the 
town  Cantigny,  which  is  situated  twenty  miles 
northwest  of  Montdidier. 

This  town  was  hard  to  take,  as  there  were  two 
Prussian  Guard  divisions  against  one  Yankee 
division. 

Our  general  said,  "Boys,  we  are  going  to  take 
that  town  and  we  will  take  it  inside  of  seventy- 
two  hours."     Us  boys  all  felt  proud  and  were 

64 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  65 

ready  to  go  "Over  the  Top"  any  time  the  order 
came. 

Jimmy  Doyle,  the  loader  on  my  machine  gun, 
was  the  youngest  boy  in  the  battalion,  and  he 
was  kind  of  nervous  when  he  knew  we  were 
going  "Over  the  Top"  in  seventy-two  hours.  He 
sat  down  in  the  dugout,  writing  a  letter  to  his 
dear  mother,  with  the  shells  and  shrapnel  going 
over  our  heads.  He  expected  a  letter  from  his 
mother  for  three  months  but  never  received  it. 

So  Little  Jimmie  put  in  his  letter,  "Mother,  I 
am  writing  you  this  letter  and  it  may  be  the 
last  as  I  am  going  'Over  the  Top'  for  the  first 
time,  and  I  am  going  to  do  my  bit  even  if  I  am 
only  seventeen  years  old.  I  wrote  you  ten  letters 
and  you  have  not  written  me  one,  so  mother, 
dear,  please  write  your  little  Jimmie  a  letter. 
Good  Bye  and  God  bless  you.    Jimmie." 

The  seventy-two  hours  had  come  and  it  was 
growing  dark.  We  had  extra  ammunition 
stacked  beside  our  machine  gun,  ready  to  open 
fire  on  the  Huns.  "Little  Jimmie"  worked  hard 
stacking  up  the  ammunition.  The  infantry  was 
"standing  to"  waiting  for  the  word. 

Everything  was  quiet.  We  had  five  minutes 
to  think  of  our  people  back  home.  "Little  Jim- 
mie" said  to  me: 

'^George,  you  were  one  of  my  best  friends. 


66  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

I  am  a  kid,  but  if  I  get  killed,  tell  my  mother  1 
died  for  her  and  the  Stars  and  Stripes." 

The  time  had  come  and  the  French  tanks  had 
started  their  engines.  The  red  rocket  went  up. 
Our  artillery  laid  down  their  barrage  and  we 
opened  rapid  fire  with  our  machine  guns.  "Lit- 
tle Jimmie"  was  feeding  the  gun  like  a  veteran. 

Shells  were  whistling  all  around  us.  The  cap- 
tains of  all  infantry  companies  yelled,  "Over  the 
Top  with  the  best  of  luck  and  give  them  Hell. 
Up  and  at  'em,  boys!" 

And  when  they  went  over  the  boys  yelled  and 
cheered,  rushing  onward  to  the  Hun  trenches, 
"Remember  the  Lusitania,''^  "Remember  the  An- 
tilles/' "Remember  the  U.  S.,"  "Remember  dear 
President  Wilson  and  the  Stars  and  Stripes." 

They  kept  on  gaining,  facing  death  and  dan- 
ger. We  followed  them  up  with  our  machine 
guns.  The  Huns  started  with  their  artillery. 
They  thought  they  could  stop  us  but  they 
couldn't.  We  always  had  our  fighting  spirit 
with  us. 

The  German  Prussian  Guards  came  over  to 
meet  us.  Our  infantry  went  at  'em,  facing  them. 
Some  yelled,  "Kamerad,"  but  that  didn't  go  with 
us.  We  gave  them  the  cold  steel  instead.  We 
had  500  yards  to  go  to  before  we  could  take 
Cantigny.    "Little  Jimmie"  Doyle  was  working 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  67 

hard  at  the  gun  and  he  would  say,  "I  wonder 
if  my  mother  is  thinking  of  me."  We  kept  mov- 
ing our  gun  and  giving  them  all  they  wanted. 
All  of  a  sudden  "Little  Jimmie"  fell  with  a  Hun 
machine  gun  bullet  through  his  head.  The 
blood  was  pouring  down  his  cheek.  I  went  to 
him,  gave  him  my  first  aid  packet  with  band- 
ages, put  it  around  his  head, — but  in  vain.  He 
was  taking  his  last  breath.    He  said: 

"George,  good  bye,  I  knew  this  was  my  day." 
He  wanted  to  say  a  few  more  words,  but  could 
not.  He  lay  still  without  breathing.  He  was 
dead,  and  he  died  with  a  smile  on  his  lips.  The 
poor  lad  was  always  happy  and  had  a  smile  for 
whoever  he  met.  "Little  Jimmie"  died  for  his 
country  and  died  like  a  man. 

After  taking  Jimmie  away  I  ran  back  to  my 
machine  gun.  The  Prussians  were  coming  over, 
driving  back  the  infantry.  They  overpowered 
us  but  the  machine  gunners  all  said:  "We  are 
going  to  hold  this  line  until  the  infantry  gets 
reinforcements."  We  eight  machine  gunners 
were  checking  the  Germans  finally.  Now  and 
then  we  stopped  firing.  Then  the  Huns  would 
rush  at  us,  thinking  that  they  had  killed  us,  but 
we  were  very  much  alive  and  as  soon  as  they 
advanced  a  hundred  yards  or  so,  we  would  open 
up  our  machine  guns  again  and  give  'em  Hell. 


68  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

Four  of  the  machine  gunners  were  killed  and  it 
was  up  to  the  remaining  four  to  hold  them  back 
until  the  infantry  came. 

Our  ammunition  was  getting  low  and  I  was 
shot  through  my  leg  by  a  high  explosive  shrap- 
nel, but  I  kept  on  with  my  machine  gun  until 
our  infantry  came  up  with  the  reinforcements, 
and  went  over  with  a  yell  and  chased  the  Huns 
back  and  captured  Cantigny.  We  got  that  town 
in  two  and  a  half  hours. 

My  leg  was  bleeding  and  I  had  an  awful  pain 
but  I  stuck  to  it.  We  went  into  the  Hun 
trenches,  which  we  had  captured,  and  there  I 
was  treated  by  the  Red  Cross  dressing  station 
and  then  we  went  in  and  brought  out  the  Ger- 
man prisoners  who  were  hiding  in  the  dugouts 
and  cellars  of  the  town. 

Then  the  Germans,  who  were  driven  back  to 
their  reserve  trenches,  wanted  to  get  square  on 
us,  and  fired  over  the  poisonous  gas.  We  got 
the  signal  and  put  our  masks  on,  and  kept  them 
on  for  seventy-two  hours.  Mine  was  an  old  rnask 
and  it  began  to  leak,  until  suddenly  I  fell,  and 
was  unconscious  for  twenty-four  hours.  When 
I  awoke  I  was  in  the  hospital,  in  a  nice  white 
bed  such  as  I  had  not  been  in  for  ten  months. 
Oh !  didn't  I  sleep.  They  couldn't  get  me  up  for 
anything. 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  69 

I  was  nursed  back  to  health,  and,  when  I  went 
back  to  the  front,  they  had  a  great  surprise  for 
me.  I  was  summoned  to  General  Headquarters 
and  there  I  was  awarded  the  French  war  cross, 
or  ''Croix  de  Guerre,"  for  heroism  during  the 
battle  of  Cantigny.  We  all  sang  the  song  of 
songs,  "Over  There,"  by  the  Yankee  Doodle 
Boy,  George  M.  Cohan.  We  used  this  song  all 
the  time  when  we  would  march  into  battle,  and 
sang  it  again  when  we  came  out  victorious. 

Then  I  was  sent  home  to  dear  America  and 
my  people  were  more  than  pleased  to  see  me 
march  in  a  hero  from  "Over  There." 

Then  they  had  me  talking  for  the  Knights  of 
Columbus  drive,  Liberty  Loan,  also  the  United 
War  Work  Campaign.  The  American  people 
may  well  be  proud  when  their  sons  and  sweet- 
hearts come  marching  home  victorious, — as  they 
all  fought  well  to  make  the  world  safe  and  a 
decent  place  to  live  in. 


THE   RETREAT   FROM    MONS 

BY  SERGT.  T.  S.  GRUNDY 

I  WAS  one  of  the  first  100,000  men  of  British 
Expeditionary  Force  sent  to  Belgium  in 
August,  1914.  The  great  retreat  from  Mons  and 
the  different  battles  (rearguard  actions)  that 
took  place  afterward  were  some  of  the  worst 
and  fiercest  actions  that  the  British  Forces  ever 
fought.  Of  course  we  know  that  not  so  many 
guns  were  used  and  nothing  like  the  barrage  that 
is  put  down  nowadays,  but  it  was  hard  and  se- 
vere fighting  with  hardships  that  are  no  longer 
necessary  today.  The  Lewis  machine  gun,  and 
the  new  types  today,  were  not  known  then.  We 
went  to  the  field  with  the  old  Maxim  type  used 
in  previous  warfare.  Such  was  the  equipment 
of  the  first  100,000  men  of  British  Expeditionary 
Forces.  Our  forces  were  spread  out  on  a  twenty- 
two-mile  front.  Just  a  mere  handful  of  men 
that,  without  a  doubt,  saved  Europe  from  Prus- 
sian rule;  although  thousands  do  not  realize  this. 
If  the  enemy  had  known  of  the  weakness  of  our 
forces  he  would  have  walked  across  Belgium 
and  France.     However,  the  enemy  underesti- 

70 


SERGT.  T.   S.  GRUNDY 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  71 

mated  our  forces,  and  the  stubborn  and  deter- 
mined fight  of,  what  the  Kaiser  called,  Eng- 
land's "Contemptible  Little  Army"  saved  the 
situation.  At  Mons  it  was  a  case  of,  if  the  enemy 
broke  through  the  line,  there  were  no  reserves 
to  bring  up,  so,  officer  and  man  alike,  we  stood 
to  the  last.  When  the  enemy  broke  through  in 
certaia  parts  of  the  lines — then  came  the  hard 
fighting.  "Fritz"  would  break  through  on  the 
left  flank  and  endeavor  to  cut  us  ofif,  then  came 
the  time  man  after  man  went  down,  and,  slowly, 
we  had  to  retreat  assisted  by  cavalry,  against, 
literally  speaking,  hordes  and  hordes  of  Ger- 
many's best  soldiers.  Some  companies  were  not 
so  fortunate,  being  completely  surrounded,  and 
annihilated,  or  taken  prisoners,  very  few  escap- 
ing to  tell  the  tale,  and  those  that  escaped  to  the 
woods  had  no  rations,  and  lived  like  savages, 
on  anything  that  could  be  found. 

Unfortunately  not  many  of  these  men  are  alive 
today,  being  afterward  captured  by  the  enemy 
and  killed  by  ill-treatment  in  internment  camps, 
or  starved  to  death  in  the  woods.  It  was  when 
the  retreat  was  looking  very  serious,  and  no  re- 
serves forthcoming,  that  the  most  wonderful  and 
thrilling  incidents  of  the  war  occurred,  and  this 
is  vouched  for  by  all  who  were  there.  When 
comrades  were  falling,  one  after  the  other,  and 


72  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

the  Germans  advancing  in  great  masses,  Angels 
appeared  from  the  skies  and  seemed  to  stop  the 
approach  of  the  enemy.  They  appeared  to  fall 
back  temporarily  in  sheer  disorder.  This  was 
only  a  temporary  collapse,  but  it  gave  time  for 
better  preparations  on  our  part,  and  this  is  what 
saved  us  from  being  wiped  out,  as  reserves  were 
forthcoming  afterward.  An  incident  of  the 
enemy's  method  of  warfare  by  unscrupulous 
means  came  to  my  notice.  We  would  not  have 
lost  half  of  the  men  we  did,  at  Mons,  if  it  had 
not  been  for  this.  It  was  the  fault  of  a  French 
colonel  who  was  under  the  influence  of  his  wife, 
a  German  woman,  a  spy  of  the  German  empire, 
and  she  so  used  her  influence  over  her  husband 
that  he  kept  back  two  or  three  regiments  of  re- 
serves for  three  days,  under  the  pretext  of  resting 
them,  when  they  might  have  been  up  and  prob- 
ably saved  the  situation.  This  colonel  was  after- 
ward court-martialed  and  shot,  Lord  Kitchener 
coming  from  England  to  investigate  this. 

Our  enemy,  as  we  have  seen  all  through  the 
war,  has  used  these  unscrupulous  methods.  We 
lost  60,000  out  of  100,000  1st  B.  E.  F.  Over  half 
our  army  was  taken  prisoners,  killed  and 
wounded.  Out  of  my  battalion  there  were 
twenty-eight  survivors — I  being  one  of  them. 

After  Mons  came  the  great  battle  of  Ypres, 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  73 

in  which  our  regiment  took  part.  Things  were 
nearly  always  very  brisk  in  this  sector  of  the  line. 
I  remember  one  particular  night,  my  chum  and 
I  were  out  on  listening  posts  when  my  chum 
thought  he  saw  the  enemy  advancing.  I  looked 
and  could  not  see  them.  He  started  making  a 
row,  and  I  warned  him  to  be  quiet,  but  he  didn't 
heed  me,  when  suddenly  he  went  down  mortally 
wounded.  I  dived  to  the  ground,  and  in  diving 
my  hands  came  in  contact  with  a  man  who  had 
probably  been  dead  some  days.  This  was  not 
an  unusual  occurrence.  About  Sept.  15th,  when 
we  were  up  at  Ypres  again,  there  was  a  party  of 
us  who  went  on  a  bombing  raid  one  night. 
Nearly  every  night  a  bombing  party  went  out 
into  No  Man's  Land.  At  this  particular  time, 
however,  we  were  returning  from  a  bombing 
raid,  perhaps  without  as  much  caution  as  usual, 
when  a  shell  burst  right  among  us,  killing  every 
man  except  myself  and  a  chum,  who  was  badly 
wounded.  I,  however,  found  I  had  escaped  with 
but  a  few  scratches,  and  taking  along  my  chum 
who  had  a  bad  wound  in  the  leg,  managed,  after 
much  trouble,  to  return  to  our  lines.  My  chum, 
not  being  able  to  walk,  made  it  difficult  for  me. 
I  had  to  carry  him  back,  and  to  look  out  for 
"whizz-bangs,"  and  avoid  tumbling  into  shell- 
holes.    The  weather  at  this  time  of  the  year  was 


74  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

very  bad ;  raw  and  cold  weather,  up  to  our 
knees  in  mud  and  water,  stuck  in  the  trenches, 
day  after  day,  and  week  after  week.  Such  is 
trench  life  in  winter  time.  But  when  spring- 
time came  again,  then  things  started  to  "liven 
up."  "Fritz"  was  at  it  again.  Our  battalion 
was  up  at  Ypres  salient,  where  a  terrific  artil- 
lery duel  was  being  put  up  at  the  time.  Shells 
were  dropping  all  around,  star  shells  illumi- 
nated the  skies,  and  the  word  was  passed  around 
for  getting  ready  to  go  "Over  the  Top." 

It  was  dawn,  and,  the  rum  ration  having  been 
handed  around,  the  order  was  given,  and  over 
we  went.  Some  were  just  up  and  over  and  down 
they  went.  I  remember  our  captain  was  one  of 
the  first  to  fall.  His  words  as  he  fell  were: 
"Carry  on,  boys,  don't  mind  me,"  and  the  boys 
carried  on.  All  I  could  see  before  me  was  blood. 
It  seemed  as  if  I  had  no  other  object  in  mind  but 
to  kill.  Such  were  my  feelings  as  we  went  over. 
We  hadn't  advanced  above  300  yards  when  a 
bullet  whizzed  too  close  for  my  liking,  and, 
turning  my  head,  I  saw  my  chum  fall,  and 
dozens  of  others,  but  our  orders  were  "carry 
on,"  and  get  our  objective.  Next  our  first  lieu- 
tenant fell  and  mustering  us  together,  our  re- 
maining lieutenant,  a  mere  youth  of  eighteen 
years,  and  a  small  handful  of  men,  reached  our 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  75 

position,  not  without  severe  loss  of  life.  T  re- 
member one  little  incident.  A  German  officer 
lying  severely  wounded,  called  in  almost  perfect 
English  for  a  drink.  One  of  the  boys  (prob- 
ably a  little  more  human  than  some  of  us)  went 
to  give  him  a  drink  out  of  his  water  bottle.  Then 
the  Prussian  officer  drew  his  revolver  and  shot 
this  boy.  Those  who  witnessed  the  incident,  I 
being  among  them,  made  short  work  of  the 
Prussian  beast,  but  this  incident  goes  to  show 
the  Prussians'  hate  of  his  enemy. 

The  Saxon  troops  are  the  most  civilized  of 
the  bunch.  An  incident  of  just  the  opposite,  I 
witnessed  down  at  the  Somme.  A  wounded 
German  soldier  called  for  water  to  drink  and 
one  of  our  Tommies  kindheartedly  went  and 
gave  it  to  him.  They  conversed  for  a  minute 
or  two.  The  German  spoke  in  broken  English. 
He  said  to  the  Tommy,  as  he  undid  his  tunic 
and  displayed  a  Salvation  Army  jersey,  "I  am  a 
Salvationist,"  and  the  British  Tommy  replying 
said,  "So  am  I."  They  shook  hands  and  the 
German  fell  back  dead.  Never  shall  I  forget 
the  sights  that  I  have  seen  in  the  trenches  we 
took  from  the  Boches.  I  remember  one  par- 
ticular trench  we  took,  we  found  a  young  girl 
about  nineteen  years  of  age,  who  had  one  of 
her  eyes  taken  out,  an  ear  cut  off  and  her  right 


76  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

breast  severed.  This  was  not  an  isolated  case 
of  the  Boche's  villainy.  I  personally  witnessed, 
in  villages  in  France  and  Belgium,  the  bodies 
of  old  men  that  had  been  crucified  or  slowly 
tortured  to  death.  I  have  seen  a  little  baby 
bayonetted  to  a  doorpost  and  the  bayonet  left 
sticking  in  the  body. 

It  was  down  at  Loos  that  I  was  gassed.  I 
have  a  recollection  of  the  gas  coming  over  and 
was  unconscious  for  twenty-four  hours,  and  had 
oxygen  pumped  into  me.  When  I  returned  to 
consciousness  I  found  myself  in  a  hospital  with 
a  Red  Cross  nurse  bending  over  me.  Another 
sector  of  the  line  I  was  in  was  at  Cambrai  (after 
my  recovery  from  the  hospital).  Here  we 
caught  it  pretty  rough.  It  was  the  time  that 
British  divisions  were  being  drafted  off  to  Italy 
that  things  were  lively.  Several  battalions  were 
being  marched  off  to  Italy,  when  "Fritz"  broke 
through  part  of  our  line  down  south,  and  ad- 
vanced in  mass  formation.  Then  we  were  or- 
dered to  retreat.  It  was  some  retreat!  Guns 
were  left,  ammunition  dumps  not  blown  up, 
and  we  retreated  about  thirty  miles.  Our  losses 
there  were  great.  However,  in  small  counter- 
attacks and  skirmishes,  which  our  battalion  took 
part  in,  we  captured  quite  a  few  prisoners.  I 
was  quite  surprised  to  notice  how  young  some 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  77 

of  these  German  soldiers  seemed — not  more 
than  seventeen  years  of  age.  In  the  early  part 
of  1918  I  was  up  in  Ypres  again  where  one  night 
we  had  after  severe  fighting  recaptured  a  few 
hundred  yards,  I  was  just  standing  around  in 
the  captured  trenches,  when  a  shell  burst  and 
a  piece  of  shrapnel  caught  me.  Down  I  went, 
to  awake  once  more  in  a  hospital,  where  the 
boys  were  all  content  and  happy,  in  spite  of 
wounds.  So  was  I,  especially  when  I  heard  I 
was  for  "Blighty"  once  again. 


MY  SERVICE  IN  FLANDERS 

by  sergt.  alexander  gibb,  no.  444476,  co.  a, 
26th  batt.,  n.  b.  regt.,  Canadian  inf. 

IN  THE  month  of  October,  1914,  the  second 
Canadian  Division  was  being  formed.  I 
being  too  young  at  that  time,  could  not  enlist,  but 
in  the  month  of  February,  1915,  I  did  enlist  with 
the  S5th  Battalion.  The  commander  of  that  bat- 
talion was  Lieutenant  Colonel  Kirkpatrick.  It 
was  in  the  month  of  March  of  the  same  year 
that  our  regiment  went  into  camp  at  Sussex, 
N.  B.  Every  day  of  our  life  in  camp  was  work, 
day  and  night,  but  of  course  our  battalion  found 
time  for  their  sports;  even  if  we  did  have  to 
work  very  hard  during  the  day. 

In  the  beginning  of  June  of  that  year  there 
was  a  call  came  to  our  regiment  for  volunteers 
to  go  overseas,  with  the  26th  Battalion,  which 
is  now  known  as  the  Famous  Fighting  26th;  at 
that  time  under  command  of  Lieutenant  Colonel 
McAvity,  better  known  as  "Colonel  Jim."  Of 
course  I  was  eager  to  get  over  and  do  my  bit. 
I  was  one  of  the  many  who  volunteered.  It  was 
on  the  most  unlucky  day  of  that  month,  June 

78 


SERGT.  ALEXANDER  GIBB 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  79 

13,  1915,  that  the  26th  sailed  on  the  transport 
Caledonian  for  an  unknown  port  in  England. 
As  the  transport  moved  from  the  pier  amid 
cheering  crowds,  the  boys  were  happy  and  gay. 

Our  voyage  across  the  pond  was  uneventful, 
only  we  were  all  given  life  belts  which  we  had 
to  wear  all  the  time  of  our  trip,  and  of  course 
we  had  our  life  boat  drill,  which  took  place  in 
the  morning  after  our  physical  training.  The 
afternoon  was  spent  in  sports  of  all  kinds,  box- 
ing, running,  etc.  We  did  not  come  in  con- 
tact with  any  U-boats  and  I  might  say  we  had 
very  little  seasickness  on  board.  Our  trip  of 
nine  days  was  the  most  enjoyable  trip  I  have 
ever  had  on  the  water.  When  we  were  a  few 
miles  from  our  landing  place,  away  ofif  in  the 
distance  we  could  see  two  destroyers  coming 
toward  us.  At  first  we  thought  they  were  "Frit- 
zies"  but  as  they  came  nearer  we  found  them  to 
be  British  destroyers  coming  to  escort  us  into  the 
harbor  at  Southampton. 

On  arriving  at  that  port,  amid  cheering 
crowds,  we  disembarked  for  our  training  camp 
in  England.  We  marched  to  the  station  and 
boarded  the  train.  At  every  step  we  made,  the 
English  people  would  give  us  hot  tea,  cake  and 
fruit,  and  we  sure  did  enjoy  it. 


8o  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

We  arrived  in  the  City  of  Folkestone,  and 
from  there  marched  to  the  training  camp,  known 
as  West  Sandling  camp.  We  were  tired  out 
from  our  long  train  journey,  and  had  a  quiet 
repose  in  our  new  home.  Our  training  started 
in  real  earnest  there.  A  lot  of  it  was  quite  new 
to  us,  such  as  musketry,  bayonet  fighting,  trench 
warfare,  bombing,  etc.  After  two  months  of 
hard  work,  and  long  marches,  the  word  came 
at  last  for  us  to  show  the  Huns  what  we  were 
made  of.  We  received  orders  for  parade  in 
full  marching  order — then  were  marched  about 
five  miles  to  the  transport,  which  was  waiting  for 
us  at  Folkestone.  I  might  stay  that  was  in  the 
month  of  September,  1915.  Our  voyage  across 
the  channel  was  very  rough,  but  of  course  we 
did  not  mind  it. 

We  arrived  in  the  city  of  Boulogne,  on  the 
coast  of  France,  and  marched  from  there  to  a 
rest  camp,  staying  there  for  three  days.  Once 
more  we  got  orders  to  move  on.  We  marched 
about  forty  or  forty-five  miles  to  St.  Omer,  then 
on  to  a  rest  camp  behind  the  lines  at  Kemmel 
Hill,  which  is  in  Flanders. 

After  a  brief  rest,  our  battalion  went  into  the 
front  line,  at  the  above  mentioned  place.  As  we 
were  nearing  the  front  lines  we  could  hear  the 
big  guns  and  shells  bursting  overhead ;  also  the 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  8i 

whistling  of  bullets.     Of  course,   I   naturally 
started  ducking  my  head,  and  I  have  been  duck- 
ing ever  since.     In  the  week  of  the  12th  of  Oc- 
tober, our  battalion  was  in  the  front  line,  in  the 
P.  E.  O.  trenches  at  Kemmel,  and  on  that  day 
"Fritzie"  sprung  a  mine  in  No  Man's  Land 
which  formed  a  big  crater.    On  the  morning  of 
the  13th  we  got  orders  that  we  were  to  take  that 
crater.    The  time  set  for  going  "Over  the  Top" 
was  2  A.M.  and  every  man  was  ready  and  eager 
to  show  what  he  was  made  of.    To  the  minute 
a  blast  of  the  whistle  came,  and  we  were  over. 
"Fritzie"  saw  us  and  he  also  came  over.    Then 
a  hand-to-hand  fight  started.    I  came  in  contact 
with  a  big  Hun,  and  of  course  we  went  to  it. 
Before   many   seconds   had   passed,    I   got   his 
bayonet  over  the  bridge  of  the  nose,  but  it  did 
not  knock  me  out,  and  a  short  time  after  I  got 
him ;  my  first  Hun.    My,  but  I  was  a  proud  boy. 
I  put  my  hand  to  my  face  and  it  became  cov- 
ered with  blood — so  I  started  back  to  the  trench 
to  get  my  wound  dressed.     On  arriving  at  my 
battalion    dressing    station    the    doctor    started 
operations.     He  put  four  stitches  in  my  nose 
and  then  I  was  sent  back  to  a  field  hospital  for 
further    treatment.     While    at    the    hospital    I 
heard  that  our  battalion  had  taken  the  crater 
and  covered  itself  with  glory,  but  our  losses  were 


82  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

heavy.  It  was  during  that  fight  that  my  regi- 
ment made  itself  famous. 

After  two  weeks  in  the  hospital,  I  was  sent 
back  to  my  regiment  which  was  in  a  rest  camp. 
I  carried  back  with  me  two  lovely  black  eyes 
from  the  effect  of  the  wound. 

Once  more  we  moved  into  the  trenches,  under 
a  heavy  downpour  of  rain.  The  winter  had  just 
set  in.  It  was  cold  and  damp  under  foot,  and 
the  water  reached  up  to  our  knees.  During  our 
stay  in  the  line  at  that  time,  I  recall  an  incident 
which  happened.  I  was  sitting  in  a  dugout, 
having  a  bite  to  eat  with  some  of  my  pals,  and 
enjoying  the  meal  quite  well.  Something  had  to 
spoil  our  lunch,  of  course.  A  shell  came  over 
and  burst  on  top  of  the  dugout  and  buried  us  for 
about  four  or  five  hours.  We  were  in  darkness 
— then  we  were  dug  out,  and  were  none  the 
worse  from  our  little  experience, 


MY  SERVICE  IN  FLANDERS 

Part  2 
by  sergt.  a.  gibb 

DURING  our  stay  in  the  line  at  Kemmel 
Hill,  after  the  crater  fight,  the  winter 
started  in  real  earnest.  The  snow  and  sleet  was 
something  awful.  Nothing  but  wet  feet  all  the 
time.  Had  it  not  been  for  our  rum  ration,  we 
should  have  died  from  disease.  A  great  num- 
ber of  our  boys  did  die.  Some  of  the  boys  in 
our  working  party  who  went  up  the  line,  while 
we  were  in  billets,  were  drowned  in  the  shell- 
holes,  that  were  filled  with  water,  or  got  trench 
feet  and  were  sent  to  the  hospital.  During  the 
Christmas  of  1915  we  were  in  the  front  line, 
and  it  was  very  cold.  We  had  our  Christmas 
dinner  there,  which  consisted  of  our  regular  ra- 
tions, but  w4ien  we  came  to  our  billets  again, 
after  six  days  in  the  front  line,  we  had  a  Christ- 
mas dinner  which  consisted  of  turkey,  dressing, 
pudding,  tea  and  other  nice  things.  I  am  sure 
all  the  boys  enjoyed  it  to  their  heart's  content. 
In  fact,  it  was  the  best  meal  we  had  since  ar- 
riving in  Flanders.  We  also  had  our  New 
Year's  dinner  out  on  the  line,  much  to  our  joy_ 

83 


84  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

During  Christmas  and  New  Year's  we  had  en- 
tertainments at  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  huts  and  a  few 
movie  shows. 

About  two  days  after  New  Year's  we  went 
back  into  the  line;  also  the  mud  and  water.  The 
rest  of  that  winter  was  very  uneventful. 

It  was  on  June  21,  1916,  that  the  third  battle 
of  Ypres  started,  our  regiment  being  in  the  line 
at  Kemmel  Hill,  and  our  3rd  Canadian  divi- 
sion at  Ypres.  On  the  second  of  that  month 
"Fritzie"  made  his  drive  for  Ypres.  The  battle 
started  about  2  A.M.  The  Huns  came  over  in 
massed  formation,  and  very  strong  in  number, 
almost  six  to  one  of  "ours."  All  the  boys  in  my 
battalion  were  sitting  on  top  of  the  trench,  look- 
ing on  at  the  attack.  The  noise  from  the  big 
guns  was  dreadful;  also  the  machine  gun  fire. 
The  prettiest  sight  I  ever  saw  was  the  star  shells 
bursting  in  the  air.  They  were  of  colored  red, 
white,  and  green,  which  was  the  Hun's  S.  O.  S. 
call. 

On  the  fourth  of  June,  "Fritzie"  managed  to 
drive  our  boys  from  their  position  in  that  part 
of  the  line.  Our  third  division  put  up  a  very 
strong  fight,  but  they  were  outnumbered  and 
could  not  hold.  So  the  Huns  advanced  quite 
a  bit,  and  gained  a  lot  of  ground.  The  48th 
Battalion   was   separated    from   the   other   bat- 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  85 

talions  and  other  regiments  were  in  the  same  fix. 
That  was  the  reason  the  Huns  drove  them  back. 

On  the  11th  of  June  our  battalion,  the  26th, 
was  taken  out  of  the  line  at  Kemmel  Hill,  and 
after  a  few  hours  rest,  started  for  the  support 
line  at  Ypres,  which  was  Bedford  Farm.  On 
arriving  there  we  stayed  for  two  days,  and  on 
the  12th  of  the  next  month  our  famous  Canadian 
Scottish  made  an  attack  on  "Fritzie"  and  suc- 
ceeded in  driving  him  back,  after  very  hard 
fighting  and  hand-to-hand  work. 

It  was  on  the  14th  that  our  battalion,  accom- 
panied by  others,  moved  up  to  relieve  the  tired- 
out  Scotties,  who  were  tattered  and  torn.  They 
came  straggling  back,  but  not  in  the  same 
strength  as  when  they  went  into  the  conflict. 
They  had  a  great  number  killed,  wounded  and 
missing.  As  our  battalion  moved  up  the  road 
leading  to  the  trenches,  under  heavy  shell  fire, 
we  lost  two  hundred  men,  killed  and  wounded. 
As  we  moved  along,  we  could  see  our  chums 
falling.  That  made  us  more  eager  to  get  at  the 
Hun.  On  arriving  in  the  front  line,  late  that 
evening  I  was  detailed  off  as  a  battalion  runner, 
and,  of  course,  it  was  very  interesting  work.  I 
was  to  report  at  battalion  headquarters  which 
was  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  behind  the 
line.     After  great  difficult)^  I  found  myself  at 


86  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

that  point,  and  reported  myself  to  the  sergeant- 
major.  A  short  time  after  I  was  ordered  to  take 
a  battalion  into  the  trenches  at  Hooge,  and  after 
great  difKcuity,  going  over  the  shell-torn  ground, 
I  landed  the  regiment  safe  at  their  port. 

On  the  following  morning  at  9  A.M.  I  re- 
ceived another  order  to  take  a  dispatch  to  every 
boy  in  my  battalion.  Of  course  there  is  always 
two  men  v/ho  go  with  the  dispatch.  The  idea 
of  that  is  in  case  one  man  gets  w^ounded,  the 
other  can  look  after  his  wounds,  and  carry  on 
with  his  orders.  My  partner  and  I  started  out 
from  battalion  headquarters,  and  going  up  the 
communication  trench,  found  it  all  blown  to 
pieces,  so  we  decided  to  take  to  the  open.  On 
arriving  at  a  company  we  delivered  the  dis- 
patch and  went  on  to  the  next  company.  It  was 
very  uneventful  but  it  took  us  from  9  A.M. 
one  day  until  4  A.M.  the  following  morning  to 
get  back.  On  our  way  back  we  arrived  at  a 
company  in  time  to  get  a  little  party  out  to 
headquarters,  but  at  the  same  time  "Fritzie" 
started  shelling  us  very  heavily,  so  we  took  dif- 
ferent routes.  About  fifty  yards  from  the  front 
line  my  pal  got  a  bullet  in  the  back,  which 
brought  him  down.  I  dressed  his  wound,  then 
carried  him  for  a  distance  of  about  fifty  or  sixty 
yards.     I  then  laid  him  down,  so  I  could  get  a 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  87 

rest  and  straighten  myself  up,  but  when  I  picked 
him  up  again  he  was  dead.  I  continued  the 
rest  of  my  journey  alone,  but  before  long  I  got 
hit  myself  in  both  legs.  I  dressed  them  and 
crawled  to  headquarters,  delivered  the  dispatch, 
then  fell  into  a  fainting  spell.  When  I  came  to 
I  found  myself  in  a  hospital  in  Boulogne. 

Canada's  casualties  in  the  war  up  to  eleven 
days  before  the  capture  of  Mons  on  the  final 
morning  of  the  conflict  totalled  211,358  men. 

These  classified  as  follows: 

Killed  in  action 34,877 

Died  of  wounds. 15,457 

Wounded  and  presumed  dead 52,779 

Missing  in  action  and  known  prisoners 

of  war   8,245 

Canada's  losses  have  been  very  great  and  she 
has  fought  very  bravely  for  a  just  cause,  the 
freedom  of  the  world  and  everlasting  peace. 


WITH  THE  AMMUNITION  TRAIN 

BY  FREDERICK  GERALD  MC  AVITY,  GUNNER  NO. 

91805,  8th  BATTERY,  CANADIAN  FIELD 

ARTILLERY 

IT  WAS  back  in  1914  when  the  word  came  to 
Canada  for  soldiers  to  serve  for  King  and 
Country.  As  I  was  very  young,  not  quite  eigh- 
teen years  of  age,  I  thought  I  would  like  to  en- 
list, and  go  to  war,  not  really  knowing  what  I 
was  going  into. 

At  that  time,  anyone  enlisting  under  age  had 
to  have  his  parents'  consent,  which,  I  will  say, 
was  no  easy  matter.  After  having  a  litle  battle 
of  my  own,  with  all  my  relatives,  I  finally  man- 
aged to  get  the  signature  of  my  parents. 

We  went  to  camp  a  few  days  later  and  had 
about  two  months'  training  at  Valcartier,  and 
then  sailed  for  England.  After  training  a  few 
months  in  the  Old  Country  we  sailed  for  France 
the  early  part  of  February,  1915,  where  we  first 
got  our  taste  of  war.  I  was  more  than  surprised, 
because  I  was  young,  and  my  idea  of  war  was 
sniping  at  each  other  from  behind  a  tree  or 
stump,  but  this  trench  warfare  was  a  new  thing, 

88 


GUNNER  F.  G.  McAVITY 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  89 

At  that  time  I  was  attached  to  an  ammunition 
column  which  fed  the  guns  with  its  ammunition. 
Then  it  was  a  case  of  starving  the  guns,  because 
the  shortage  of  ammunition  would  only  allow 
each  gun  of  each  battalion  four  rounds  a  day 
and  as  the  soldiers  call  it  out  there,  they  had  our 
"wind  up"  all  the  time. 

We  had  lost  quite  a  number  of  men  at  Ypres 
and  pulled  out  of  that  position  for  another  part 
of  the  line,  when  I  was  wounded  on  the  forenoon 
of  September  21st.  It  was  only  a  slight  wound 
in  the  left  foot.  After  a  few  months  at  the  hos- 
pital and  proving  A-1  again,  I  was  sent  back  to 
the  line,  and  joined  my  unit  at  Ploegstreet  in 
the  fall  of  the  same  year.  Now,  as  you  know,  the 
fighting  was  not  so  great,  but  the  hardships  were 
terrible  through  the  winter.  It  is  simply  won- 
derful what  a  human  being  can  stand.  If  any- 
one had  told  me  before  I  enlisted  that  I  could 
lay  in  mud  and  water  for  day  in  and  day  out, 
I  think  I  would  have  called  him  a  "liar,"  but 
I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  nothing  is 
impossible  nowadays. 

Some  days  when  it  was  a  little  quiet,  we  would 
spend  our  time  in  fixing  up  our  bivouac,  which 
we  had  built  on  the  ground,  as  huts  to  live  in. 
After  the  winter  of  1915  and  the  spring  of  1916, 
we  moved  to  the  Ypres  salient  and  we  had  a 


90  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

pretty  tough  time  of  it  there,  as  they  had  us 
pinned  in  the  shape  of  a  horseshoe,  and  they 
could  hit  us  from  all  sides  except  the  rear.  The 
Germans  had  us  overwhelmed  at  that  time,  but 
even  with  their  wonderful  fighting  mechanism, 
they  couldn't  drive  back  the  fighting  race  from 
North  America. 

We  fought  on  in  the  salient  until  July,  1916, 
when  the  first  division  got  word  we  were  to 
move  to  another  front.  It  was  rather  a  surprise. 
We  thought  we  were  to  have  a  rest  at  that  time. 
The  fighting  was  heavy  on  the  two  fronts — the 
Somme  front  in  France  and  the  Salonica  front 
in  Greece.  So  it  was  a  question  with  the  boys 
which  one  we  were  going  to.  At  last  word  came 
to  move  somewhere  and  after  a  number  of  days 
on  the  train  and  on  foot,  we  at  last  came  to  a 
sign  along  the  roadway  marked  Somme  River. 

Well,  then  we  knew^  we  were  on  our  way  to 
the  Somme  front,  going  into  action  the  same 
night.  We  arrived  on  the  battle  scene,  and  that 
was  the  introduction  of  the  Canadians  in  the 
Battle  of  the  Somme.  It  was  a  tough  fight  and 
we  lost  a  number  of  men,  but  it  was  much  worse 
for  poor  ''Fritzie." 

We  had  it  pretty  rough  all  the  time  on  the 
Somme,  and  oftentimes  when  the  rations  did 
not  get  up  from  the  divisional  train,  we  had  to 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  91 

lay  back  011  the  hard-tack,  which  looks  like  dog 
biscuits,  and  we  thought  one  of  these  biscuits 
dipped  in  bacon  grease  was  a  great  treat  at  that 
time. 

I  fought  on  the  Somme  through  the  summer 
of  1916,  until  the  fall  of  the  same  year,  and  in 
the  early  part  of  the  evening  of  November  9,  as 
I  was  in  horse  lines  of  our  battery,  having  a  nice 
friendly  game  of  "crown  and  anchor,"  the  cor- 
poral of  my  section  called  me  from  my  game 
(I  was  winning  and  did  not  like  to  leave  the 
game)   and  said: 

"McAvity,  you  will  go  up  with  rations  to  the 
battalion  tonight.  I  think  you  had  better  leave 
about  eight  o'clock."  Well,  I  went  back  to  the 
game  and  played  until  eight,  and  then  I  started 
for  the  line.  As  we  placed  the  rations  over  pack 
horses  and  started  to  plough  through  the  mud, 
leading  our  horses,  it  was  a  case  of  ups  and 
downs,  stepping  in  a  shell-hole  here,  and  on  a 
dead  body  there.  Fritz  was  putting  a  lot  of 
gas  shells  over,  and  it  was  getting  late  in  the 
night  and   raining  like  Hell. 

We  had  one  of  our  boys  up  in  the  air  by  the 
concussion  of  a  shell  and  he  also  lost  his  ration. 
At  last  we  got  to  the  battery.  The  gas  shells 
still  poured  over  and  the  major  gave  us  orders 
to  get  back  as  quickly  as  possible  after  deliver- 


92  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

ing  the  goods.  I  think  we  were  about  fifty  yards 
away  from  the  battery  when  a  big  shell  burst, 
or  at  least  a  "Jack  Johnson"  as  the  boys  call  it. 
The  boy  behind  me,  the  one  who  lost  his  ration, 
said  to  me: 

"Mac,  we  had  better  hurry  as  it  was  pretty 
close,"  and  let  me  tell  you  the  next  one  that  came 
over  "got"  both  of  us,  killing  him  and  wound- 
ing me  severely.  At  11.20  P.M.  on  the  eve  of 
November  9th,  after  spending  nearly  two  years 
in  hospital,  I  was  discharged,  May,  1918,  in  St. 
John,  N.  B.,  Canada. 


HOSPITAL  EXPERIENCE 

BY  GUNNER  FREDERICK  GERALD  MC  AVITY 

BEING  wounded  on  November  9th,  my  first 
stop  was  at  a  stationary  hospital,  Rouen, 
France.  I  had  one  operation  there,  and  had 
some  shrapnel  removed  from  my  body.  One  of 
the  pieces  was  taken  from  my  left  shoulder;  a 
nice-sized  piece,  which  is  shown  in  the  photo- 
graph illustrating  this  story.  When  I  came  to, 
after  being  under  the  operation,  I  felt  something 
hard  on  my  shoulder.  The  nurse,  seeing  that  I 
did  not  pay  much  attention  to  it,  came  to  my 
bed  and  asked  me  if  I  did  not  want  my  souvenir, 
meaning  my  shrapnel.  Well,  as  I  was  in  great 
pain  at  that  time,  I  did  not  prize  it  very  much, 
but  I  value  it  quite  a  lot  today. 

After  a  few  months  in  France,  they  moved 
me  to  a  Red  Cross  hospital  at  Southampton, 
England,  called  Netley  hospital.  I  had  a  long 
stretch  of  hospital  life  in  Netley.  When  I  was 
sailing  from  France  to  England,  aboard  the 
hospital  ship,  they  asked  me  where  I  would  like 
to  go.  Naturally,  being  a  Canadian,  and  having 
no  relatives  over  there,  I  promptly  said,  Lon- 

93 


94  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

don,  so  I  could  meet  some  of  my  pals.  When  I 
got  off  the  boat,  and  aboard  the  hospital  train, 
I  asked  the  orderly  if  I  was  near  London,  and 
he  gave  the  answer:  "Don't  worry.  You  are 
not  going  to  London.  You  are  on  your  way  to 
Netley,  and  will  be  there  in  ten  minutes." 

I  was  a  little  downhearted  at  first,  but  after 
a  few  weeks,  I  was  satisfied  with  my  treatment, 
which  was  the  very  best. 

When  I  got  my  little  lot  of  wounds,  on  the 
Somme,  I  also  was  exposed  to  gas  shells,  which 
left  my  stomach  in  such  a  condition  that  I  could 
not  eat  for  two  months  until  after  I  had  that  sea 
voyage  from  France  to  Netley.  The  nurse  there 
asked  me  if  I  would  try  a  poached  egg  on  toast, 
and  that  was  my  turning  point.  From  that  day 
until  the  day  I  was  discharged  I  have  not  missed 
a  meal,  except  after  an  operation. 

I  had  nine  operations  altogether,  eight  in  the 
Netley  Hospital  at  Southampton,  England. 
After  the  shrapnel  was  removed,  the  doctor 
found  out  that  the  bone  in  my  shoulder  was 
severely  fractured,  and  I  had  four  different 
operations,  just  to  clean  out  the  loose  bone  which 
was  keeping  my  wound  from  healing.  All  the 
time  I  was  in  the  hospital  and  even  until  three 
months  ago  my  arm  was  completely  paralyzed. 
But  through  the  wonderful  treatment  they  gave 


TREATING    GUNNER    McAVITY'S    WOUND.    PARKS 
CONVALESCENT    HOSPITAL,    ST.    JOHN,    N.    B. 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  95 

me  I  am  very  glad  to  say  I  have  pretty  good  use 
of  my  left  arm. 

Another  one  of  my  large  wounds  was  in  my 
left  thigh,  where  I  lost  about  eight  inches  of 
flesh,  from  the  knee  up.  I  have  had  four  opera- 
tions on  this  limb.  I  lay  for  eight  months  in 
suspense,  awaiting  the  official  word,  whether  I 
would  have  to  lose  the  left  limb.  I  can  honestly 
say  I  had  a  great  deal  of  confidence  in  my  sur- 
geon, and  one  day  he  came  to  me  and  had  a  per- 
sonal chat  with  me.  He  talked  to  me  just  like 
a  father.  He  asked  me  if  I  thought  I  could  stand 
another  operation  because  he  stated  that  I  was  in 
a  pretty  bad  condition.  I  was  very  anxious  to 
know  his  view  on  the  subject  as  I  put  all  con- 
fidence in  him.  I  promptly  asked  him  his  deci- 
sion, and  he  replied  that  he  thought  I  could 
stand  it.  Knowing  he  thought  I  could  pull 
through,  it  did  not  take  me  long  to  let  him  do 
anything  to  get  me  healed  up. 

The  operation  was  performed  and  I  had  all 
the  skin  taken  from  my  right  thigh  and  grafted 
on  the  wound  on  the  left.  I  can  say  it  was  a 
success,  and  after  a  few  months  I  was  able  to 
get  along  on  a  cane.  The  doctor,  seeing  I  was 
able  to  move  about,  had  me  sent  to  a  Canadian 
Hospital  so  I  could  be  boarded  and  sent  to 
Canada. 


96  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

I  was  in  the  Canadian  hospital  for  about  a 
month  and  was  very  anxious  to  see  my  native 
land  again,  when  one  day  at  noon  the  word  came 
for  me  to  pack  up  and  get  ready  for  the  boat. 

After  nine  days  at  sea  on  a  hospital  ship,  with 
all  lights  aglow,  at  the  time  the  Germans  were 
sinking  Red  Cross  ships,  we  pulled  into  Hali- 
fax, N.  S.,  safe  and  sound.  Here  I  was  detailed 
off  for  a  hospital,  after  I  had  my  furlough,  to 
visit  my  relatives. 

After  I  had  seen  my  people,  and  was  ex- 
hausted from  talking,  and  shaking  hands  with 
old  acquaintances,  I  reported  to  hospital  again 
in  St.  John,  N.  B.,  Canada,  where  I  received 
electrical  and  massage  treatment. 

At  that  time  I  could  not  bend  my  knee,  and 
my  leg  was  stifif,  but  through  the  wonderful 
treatment,  and  my  own  will  power,  I  finally  got 
very  good  use  of  it  before  I  got  my  discharge, 
May,  1918. 


The  original  letter  of  the  above  photo  was  sent  to  Mrs.  Hall, 
together  with  the  Victoria  Cross,  from  King  George.  This 
medal,  the  first  Canadian  Victoria  Cross  awarded  in  this  War, 
was  won  by  Sergeant  Major  F.  W.  Hall  at  Ypres,  April  24,  1915, 
who  was  shortly  afterwards  killed  in  another  attempt  to  bring 
in  a  wounded  man  under  rifle  and  machine  gun.  The  story  of 
his  two  brothers  appears  in  this  book. 


TWO  YEARS  AND  A  HALF  OF  WAR 

BY  SGT.  F.  R.  MUIR,  NO.  81611,  IOTH  BATT.,  C.E.F. 

SIX  months  before  war  had  been  declared  I 
left  New  York  City  for  Winnipeg,  Canada, 
to  play  at  the  Winnipeg  Theater  and  remained 
there  until  war  w-as  an  established  fact.  On 
August  6,  1914,  I  enlisted  as  an  American  and 
joined  the  32nd  Battalion,  C.E.F.  After  about 
five  months'  training,  my  battalion  was  ready 
and  eager  for  service.  From  Halifax,  Nova 
Scotia,  we  set  out  on  the  former  Red-Star  liner 
Vaderland  bound  for  the  battle  grounds  of 
Civilization,  each  and  every  boy  of  us  keyed  up 
to  the  highest  pitch  of  patriotism.  When  we 
were  three  days  at  sea  we  ran  out  of  cigarettes.  A 
number  of  the  boys  had  boxes  of  strong  cigars 
with  them  and  these  they  passed  around  quite 
generously.  We  smoked  with  the  usual  gusto 
and  also  the  usual  results.  A  ton  of  fish  must 
have  been  fattened  on  food  that  was  intended 
solely  to  strengthen  us  for  the  combat. 

This  experience,  coupled  with  seasickness, 
made  four  of  us  refuse  to  wake  up  one  morning, 
for  which  we  were  brought  up  before  the  major 

97 


98  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

and  sentenced  to  cleaning  port-hole  windows. 
We  did  not  relish  this  labor  and  one  port  hole 
each  was  the  extent  of  our  efforts  for  half  the 
day.  In  the  afternoon  we  were  set  to  peeling 
potatoes,  cleaning  the  dishes  and  scrubbing  the 
lower  decks,  which  we  finally  accomplished 
after  much  pouting  and  grumbling. 

As  we  neared  the  coast  of  Ireland  the  ships 
which  comprised  our  convoy  seemed  to  be  mak- 
ing a  bee  line  for  any  port  they  could  reach. 
Word  had  been  received  that  subs  were  in  the 
vicinity  and  full  steam  ahead  was  the  order  of 
the  day.  The  fact  that  our  ship  was  the  slowest 
tub  of  the  bunch,  making  only  about  nine  knots 
per  hour,  added  darned  little  to  our  comfort. 
Finally  after  much  excitement  we  docked  at 
Queenstown.  Major  Ashton,  in  command  of 
our  battalion,  had  the  gangplanks  lowered  and 
invited  us  out  to  a  route  march  through  the  city. 
We  aroused  quite  some  enthusiasm  and  curi- 
osity, as  we  were  the  first  Canadian  troops  to 
ever  land  in  Ireland.  Our  next  stop  was  Liver- 
pool and  there  the  dinkey  trains,  which  to  us 
were  a  real  joke  in  comparison  to  our  own  huge 
monsters  at  home,  afforded  us  opportunity  for 
funny  comment.  These  trains  are  little  bits  of 
things  and  from  fifteen  to  twenty  men  were 
crammed  into  a  small  compartment  normally 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  99 

holding  about  ten.  Several  of  us  were  unable 
to  sit  down  all  the  way  to  London.  The  best 
feature  of  the  train  service  was  the  fond  good- 
byes, given  us  by  the  young  ladies  who  usually 
gave  them  with  a  kiss,  something  that  not  many 
of  us  found  fault  with. 

On  our  journey  through  London  we  were 
royally  received  by  English  Red  Cross  ladies 
who  fed  us  with  welcome  lunches  that  sure  did 
fill  the  vacuum  beneath  the  belt.  From  Folke- 
stone, fully  equipped,  we  left  for  France.  We 
knew  we  were  going  over  to  reinforce  the  gal- 
lant 10th  Battalion,  and  this  knowledge  added 
to  our  good  spirits.  We  were  relieving  real 
heroes  and  we  knew  it  was  up  to  us  to  "Carry 
on"  as  nobly  as  had  our  predecessors.  Every 
mother's  son  of  us  was  eager,  yes,  anxious,  to 
start  in  on  real  action.  Canada  expected  much 
from  us,  and  we  would  not  disappoint  her.  Ar- 
riving at  Boulogne  we  were  a  bit  peeved  as  we 
anticipated  being  received  by  enemy  shell  fire, 
but  silence  was  the  only  reception  we  got. 

Red  Cross  ambulances  were  arriving  in  count- 
less numbers,  bringing  in  the  wounded,  and  this 
was  our  first  glimpse  of  battle's  havoc.  This 
sort  of  took  the  heart  out  of  us,  but  only  for  a 
few  moments,  for,  with  that  scene,  came  a  grit- 
ting of  the  teeth,  and  on  each  face  could  be  seen 


loo  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

a    new-born    determination    to    see    this    thing 
through  to  a  successful  conclusion. 

After  a  night  spent,  tentless,  in  the  pouring 
rain,  covered  only  with  straw  and  the  mean,  wet 
sky,  we  entrained  for  an  unknown  destination, 
and  landed  at  Poppraine,  which  surely  looked 
like  an  unknown  destination,  as  it  was  a  typical 
jerk-water  village  inhabited  only  by  a  few  old 
men  and  women.  Through  this  village  we  hiked 
and  up  a  road  leading  to  the  front  line  trenches. 
This  road  had  been  shot  full  of  shell-holes, 
which  made  walking  very  uncomfortable.  The 
further  on  we  walked,  the  nearer  came  "Frit- 
zie's"  forty-two  centimeter  shells,  fired  from  the 
largest  cannon  ever  known  up  to  that  time;  the 
"Jack  Johnsons"  as  they  were  called.  We  were 
kept  busy  dodging  the  shells  that  seemed  to 
burst  all  around  us,  yet  never  hit  us,  but  in  our 
hearts  and  souls  we  realized  that  at  last  we 
were  on  speaking  terms  with  Mr.  Death  him- 
self; and  this  sobered  us  up  some,  you  bet. 
'Twas  no  unusual  thing  to  feel  your  hair  stand 
right  up  straight  on  end  and  hear  your  knees 
beat  a  tattoo  as  they  knocked  against  each  other. 
However,  we  soon  overcame  this  feeling  as  the 
purpose  of  our  mission  dawned  upon  us.  I  had 
a  good  opportunity  to  observe  how  young  fel- 


SERGT.   FREDERICK   MUIR 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  loi 

lows  act  when  each  knows  that  death  may  be 
his  portion  at  any  moment. 

In  a  section  composed  of  eight  men  I  noticed 
that  one  was  laughing  as  lightly  as  though  he 
was  safe  and  secure  at  home.  Another  was  sing- 
ing a  crazy  song  and  kept  marching  along  defy- 
ing death,  or  any  other  horror,  that  might 
overtake  him.  Still  another  took  the  matter  so 
seriously  as  to  walk  along  in  a  sort  of  semi- 
conscious daze,  with  a  look  of  stupidity  on  his 
face,  oblivious  to  all  surroundings.  There  is 
the  case  of  Private  Fred  Wheelhouse,  a  Ca- 
nadian lad  of  about  twenty-two  years,  who  while 
walking  under  fire  of  the  German  guns  kept  on 
playing  his  mouth  organ  or  harmonica  until 
struck  on  the  head  by  a  piece  of  shrapnel  which 
killed  him  instantly  and  spattered  his  brains 
upon  his  nearby  comrades. 

This  was  our  first  casualty  and  right  then  and 
there  we  solemnly  swore  that  we  would  avenge 
him.  On  April  21,  1915,  while  awaiting  or- 
ders in  our  reserve  trenches  two  miles  from 
the  front  line  which  was  being  held  by  the  Ca- 
nadian troops  from  the  1st,  2nd,  5th,  and  8th 
battalions,  the  Germans  let  loose  a  heavy  gas 
attack  upon  them.  At  that  time  the  gas  mask 
was  hardly  known,  the  men  being  equipped  with 
small,  inefficient  respirators,  and  naturally  the 


I02  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

casualties  were  very  heavy.  As  a  result  the  men 
had  to  fall  back,  losing  a  lot  of  the  lighter  guns. 
This  made  necessary  the  use  of  the  men  in  the 
reserve  trenches,  and  an  order  was  immediately 
issued  that  we  "stand  to"  ready  to  take  our  places 
in  a  counter-attack  which  was  to  be  launched  in 
the  morning. 

Imagine,  if  you  can,  the  feelings  of  the  lads 
awaiting  the  rising  of  the  sun  which,  probably, 
meant  the  last  sunrise  many  of  them  would  be- 
hold. The  tortures  of  the  death-house,  I  am 
sure,  are  mild  when  compared  to  those  endured 
by  the  boys,  in  the  tense  hours  prior  to  the 
attack;  especially  when  one  has  to  listen  to 
the  moaning  of  the  wounded  who  are  being  car- 
ried back  of  the  lines.  It  is  far  from  encourag- 
ing, and  it  did  not  surprise  me  when,  after  going 
through  a  night  like  this,  that  each  and  every 
one  of  us  became  fatalists.  At  five-thirty  in  the 
morning,  the  time  set  for  the  attack,  we  received 
word  to  go,  and,  believe  me,  we  were  glad  of  it. 
I  felt  as  though  I  was  ready  for  death  to  end 
my  anxiety,  or  else  to  fight  it  out,  right  on  the 
spot,  to  a  finish.  Our  officer,  Lieutenant  Ball, 
was  the  first  to  jump  to  the  front.  After  a  lusty 
"Come  on,  boys,"  he  shot  forward  into  the  tur- 
moil, caused  by  our  heavy  artillery,  with  a  reck- 
lessness bordering  on  insanity.     His  action  was 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  103 

an  inspiring  one  and  we  boys  were  ready  to 
follow  him  to  Hell,  if  needs  be. 

In  that  charge  I  enjoyed  the  experience  of 
getting  my  first  German.  I  crashed  into  him, 
a  big  burly  six-footer,  and  now  that  my  wish 
to  meet  one  had  been  gratified,  and  I  stood  be- 
fore him,  I  did  not  know  whether  to  shoot 
him,  punch  him,  kick  him  or  stick  him  as  you 
would  a  pig.  Not  having  much  experience  with 
the  bayonet,  I  acted  on  impulse  and  rammed  it 
right  through  his  stomach.  Oh,  boy!  What  a 
squeal  he  let  out.  Putting  my  foot  on  his  breast 
I  pulled  the  bayonet  from  out  his  vitals,  taking 
along  with  it  his  bowels.  This  nerved  me,  and 
I  rushed  forward  like  a  raving  maniac  stopping 
for  nothing.  I  plowed  my  way  through  them 
usiag  first  my  butt  and  then  the  bayonet  until 
I  had  rushed  right  into  their  second  line,  and. 
Holy  Jerusalem!!  right  smack  into  a  whole  nest 
of  them.  We  were  proceeding  rather  method- 
ically, in  cleaning  them  out,  when  a  shell  from 
a  "Jack  Johnson"  burst  in  the  midst  of  our  gal- 
lant little  company,  killing  five  outright  and 
separating  two  from  their  legs  and  arms,  I  my- 
self losing  a  leg  and  having  my  shoulder  put  out 
of  commision.  I  was  conscious  all  the  time  of 
what  had  happened,  and  managed  to  crawl  into 
a  shell-hole,  and  slap  a  bandage  about  my  leg. 


I04  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

With  my  shoulder  I  could  do  nothing  and  after 
lying  exposed  for  two  hours  the  company 
stretcher  bearers  picked  me  up,  and  carried  me 
back  to  the  dressing  station.  From  there  I  was 
sent  to  No.  13  general  hospital,  Boulogne,  but 
by  the  time  I  arrived,  gangrene  had  set  in,  and 
the  doctors  there  could  do  nothing  for  me. 
Again  I  was  transferred,  this  time  to  London, 
and  from  there  to  Cambridge.  A  Doctor  Cook, 
holding  the  rank  of  major,  and  from  New  York, 
announced  he  would  cure  me  in  two  months. 
But  the  job  was  a  more  difficult  one  than  he  an- 
ticipated and  six  months  was  required  ere  I 
could  walk  again.  During  that  time  the  leg  had 
to  be  amputated  to  the  knee.  I  was  then  dis- 
charged and  received,  from  the  Canadian  Gov- 
ernment, an  artificial  limb  which  I  later  dis- 
carded for  a  better  one  made  in  little  old  New 
York. 


FROM  ENGLAND  TO  FRANCE  AND 

BACK 

BY  PVT.  GEORGE  OXTON,  NO.  81680,    IOTH  BATT., 

C.E.F. 

IT  WAS  the  latter  end  of  the  month  of  April, 
1915,  that  the  32nd  Canadian  Battalion  re- 
ceived orders  to  embark  from  the  port  of  Folke- 
stone, on  the  south  coast  of  England,  for  the 
western  front. 

By  reason  of  the  fact  that  the  Canadians  had 
suffered  great  losses  at  the  first  battle  of  Ypres, 
our  order  to  leave  England  came  at  an  hour's 
notice,  but  the  regiment  to  a  man  was  extremely 
anxious  to  get  over,  and  get  busy. 

While  we  were  on  board,  our  time  was  occu- 
pied by  assembling  our  new  issue  of  Webb 
Equipment,  which  we  had  practically  thrown 
at  us,  prior  to  leaving  our  huts  at  Risborough 
Barracks,  Shornclifife.  Consequently  some  of  us 
found  we  were  short  a  portion  of  the  accoutre- 
ment while  others  had  parts  to  spare.  Being 
sociable,  we  were  all  able  to  make  a  complete 
rigout. 

The  night  was  of  the  pitch-black  sort,  but, 

105 


io6  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

thanks  to  the  science  of  navigation,  and  sea  and 
air  escort,  we  docked  at  Boulogne,  France,  safe 
and  sound,  but  in  a  drizzly  rain. 

As  long  as  I  live,  I'll  never  forget  the  peculiar 
odor  that  filled  the  air  while  marching  up  the 
long,  steep,  winding  road  that  led  from  the  docks 
to  the  camp.  It  seemed  miles,  and  more  miles, 
long,  but  thank  goodness,  we  arrived  at  last,  to 
spend  our  first  night  on  damp  ground,  or  I  had 
better  say  cold  mud.  It's  very  true  we  had  can- 
vas over  us,  but  I'm  sure  the  tents  had  just 
been  thrown  up,  for  it  was  quite  as  dry  outside 
as  inside. 

I  had  no  sooner  put  my  head  on  my  knapsack 
when  that  poor  miserable  little  bugler  bellowed 
out  his  early  morning  song. 

On  April  the  27th  we  entrained  for  parts  un- 
known, at  least  we  poor  privates  didn't  know 
where  we  were  bound  for;  probably  our  com- 
pany commander  knew,  and,  if  he  was  in  the 
humor,  the  sergeant-major  might  have  known 
also. 

After  traveling  all  night  and  part  of  the  next 
day,  packed  in  cattle  cars  like  the  proverbial 
sardines,  we  arrived  at  Poperinghe.  The  name 
was  the  largest  portion  of  the  town  that  the  Ger- 
man gunners  saw  fit  to  leave.  Detraining  here, 
we  made  a  rapid  march  to  within  a  mile  of 


PRIVATE   GEORGE   OXTON 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  107 

Ypres.  Here  we  joined  our  respective  regi- 
ments. I  went  to  the  10th  Battalion.  It  had 
then  earned  the  name  of  the  "Fighting  Tenth." 

This  night  we  dug  ourselves  in,  along  two 
sides  of  a  large  field.  Each  man  dug  a  shallow 
hole  large  enough  to  lie  down  comfortably  in. 
Owing  to  my  height  I  had  to  dig  one  at  least 
six  feet  in  length.  I  was  wishing,  at  that  par- 
ticular time,  that  I  happened  to  be  that  poor 
miserable  little  bugler,  as  he  was  a  little  more 
than  five  feet  tall. 

The  next  morning  I,  for  one,  was  up  before 
reveille.  I  found  it  much  more  comfortable 
walking  round  in  the  cool  of  the  morning  than 
lying  in  a  mud  hole  with  only  a  greatcoat 
within  a  mile  of  me.  I  imagine  something  al- 
ways happened  to  those  lovely  army  blankets, 
for  they  were  generally  conspicuous  by  their 
absence. 

The  evening  of  the  28th  was  reasonably  fine 
when  we  answered  roll  call  prior  to  going  up 
the  line.  Here  we  found  ourselves  in  the  last 
line  of  reserves,  the  idea  being  to  get  used  to 
the  "heavies."  At  times  the  shells  became  far 
too  familiar  with  us,  consequently  I  lost  some 
of  my  best  pais.  We  spent  a  week  like  this  on 
the  Yser  Canal  bank,  living  like  the  old  cave 
dwellers,  only  we  were  not  there  long  enough, 


io8  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

and  it  wasn't  peaceful  enough,  to  construct  any 
labyrinths.  Our  work  consisted  of  making 
shelters,  after  a  "Jack  Johnson"  had  obliterated 
them. 

On  the  move  again,  this  time  to  billets  about 
seven  miles  south  of  Baieulle,  it  took  a  full  night 
to  march  the  distance,  with  full  kit.  The  roads 
didn't  appear  to  get  any  softer,  as  time  went  by, 
but  still  one  heard  the  everlasting  (Kipling's) 
boots,  boots,  boots.  As  we  had  ten  minutes  each 
hour  to  rest,  I  was  absolutely  unconscious  for 
nine  and  a  half  minutes  of  that  time. 

On  the  nineteenth  of  May,  we  were  on  foot 
again.  I  had  a  feeling  it  would  not  be  to  the 
last  line  of  reserves  this  time.  Neither  it  was, 
for,  by  the  next  night,  we  were  heading  for  the 
front  line  trenches,  one  mile  east  of  the  village 
of  Festubert.  At  dusk  we  traversed  communica- 
tion trenches  to  our  destinatioii :  the  front  line 
on  the  edge  of  No  Man's  Land.  At  last!  After 
training  and  waiting  for  over  seven  months.  We 
relieved  the  Berkshires  and  took  up  our  posts 
along  with  the  "Little  Black  Devils,"  as  the 
8th  Battalion  is  called,  in  a  trench  which  was 
only  captured  from  the  Germans  the  previous 
day.  The  portion  of  the  trench  we  held  was 
dug  in  a  roadway,  and  being  fairly  high  ground 
was  comparatively  dry.     This  speaks  wonders 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  109 

for  a  trench,  for  we  plodded  through  much  mud 
and  water  to  reach  it.  Every  second  man  was 
detailed  to  mount  guard,  while  the  remainder 
fought  for  forty  winks,  then  relieved  guard. 
The  first  two  nights  were  uneventful,  though  a 
heavy  artillery  duel  was  the  standing  program. 

The  third  night,  the  twenty-first,  we  were  not 
going  to  give  "Fritzie"  a  chance  to  come  across, 
but  we  were  going  to  push  him  back.  If  a  man 
tells  you  he  was  not  nervous  going  "Over  the 
Top"  for  the  first  time,  he  lies.  I  felt  nervous, 
though  I  never  confessed  it,  and  I  wager  every- 
one else  felt  the  same  way,  as  we  had  to  wait 
about  two  hours,  after  being  told  we  were  going 
over.  At  eight  o'clock  we  were  sent  up  to  a  small 
communication  trench  about  half  way  across 
No  Man's  Land,  on  the  side  toward  the  enemy. 
It  cut  across  diagonally.  There  was  a  good- 
sized  gap,  on  which  some  snipers  had  their  rifles 
trained.  At  this  point,  we  lost  a  few  of  our 
company.  It  was  a  case  of  running  the  gauntlet 
for  each  man  who  passed  it.  All  of  us  had  to 
pass  it  three  different  times;  for,  in  our  first 
advance,  the  order  was  cancelled,  so  we  had  to 
return  till  later  on. 

About  nine  o'clock,  at  dusk,  we  finally  went 
ahead  to  the  end  of  the  communication  trench. 
Here  we  branched  out  on  either  side,  and  spread 


no  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

out  in  open  order,  to  charge.  By  this  time  my 
nervousness  had  disappeared.  My  mind  was  set 
on  the  one  object  of  getting  someone — and  I 
gripped  my  gun,  and  prayed  for  all  the  strength 
I  could  muster.  With  a  wild  cry  of  "Lusitania," 
we  received  the  orders  to  go.  All  I  could  do 
was  yell  to  the  boys  to  give  them  "beans,"  for  I 
was  knocked  down,  and  found  my  right  leg  was 
half  blown  ofif,  just  below  the  thigh.  If  the  boys 
hadn't  taken  their  objective  that  night,  I  should 
have  been  a  prisoner,  instead  of  a  hospital  case, 
for  over  twenty  months,  in  England. 

I'm  just  a  plain  buck  private, 
Who  fought  with  Canada's  Sons, 

In  a  regiment  of  the  Maple  Leaf, 
That  made  it  hot  for  the  Huns. 

I'm  just  a  plain  buck  private. 
And  fought  on  the  side  of  right, 

To  serve  the  world  for  democracy, 
And  beat  the  Hunnish  might. 

I'm  just  a  plain  buck  private, 
From  the  land  of  ice  and  snow 

And  gave  all  I  could,  for  my  country, 
To  help  to  vanquish  the  Foe. 

It  was  probably  an  hour  or  two  after  the  ad- 
>^nce  that  some  of  the  men  came  to  see  what 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  in 

they  could  do  for  us.  In  my  particular  case  the 
shrapnel,  which  had  penetrated  and  completely 
shattered  the  right  femur,  had  also  numbed  the 
nerves,  therefore  I  was  left  conscious. 

However,  one  of  our  battalion  sergeants  tied 
up  the  top  of  the  leg  for  me  with  a  length  of 
cord,  which  I  was  always  in  the  habit  of  carry- 
ing. 

Four  of  the  machine  gunners,  who  had  just 
returned  from  the  new  trench,  made  an  attempt 
to  carry  me  into  the  old  communication  trench, 
but  their  good  intentions  were  completely  frus- 
trated by  the  company  captain,  a  real  cantanker- 
ous sort,  who  levelled  his  revolver  at  me,  and 
declared  he  would  shoot,  if  the  boys  took  me  in. 
Though  I  felt  sore,  in  more  ways  than  one,  I 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was  perfectly 
right,  as  it  might  have  blocked  the  trench  to 
the  reserves  coming  up. 

The  only  thing  to  do  was  to  put  me  on  the 
ground  again.  Here  I  was  expecting  another 
shell  every  minute,  but  Providence  evidently 
thought  I  had  received  my  share,  as  I  was  free 
from  any  more  shells,  though  they  were  burst- 
ing close  at  hand  continually. 

About  2  A.M.  our  battalion  stretcher-bearers 
managed  to  reach  the  position  where  many  more, 
with  myself,  were  lying.    The  shelling  had  then 


112  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

subsided  to  a  great  extent,  making  it  possible  to 
continue  the  work  of  carrying  out  the  wounded. 

I  knew  one  of  the  three  men  who  came  along- 
side of  me  with  a  perfectly  good-looking 
stretcher.  Though  the  way  was  long  and  very 
rocky,  we  finally  arrived  at  the  first  aid  dress- 
ing station.  After  resting  here  for  probably  an 
hour,  T  was  conveyed  in  one  of  the  "London 
Scottish"  ambulances  about  five  miles  to  a  field 
hospital.  I  saw  many  of  the  boys  here.  Most 
of  them  appeared  to  be  walking  cases.  The 
next  thing  I  knew,  I  was  placed  on  the  operating 
table,  where  I  smelled  ether  for  the  first  time. 
I  remember  the  doctor  saying:  "Be  perfectly 
still,  now,  and  breathe  naturally."  After  that 
I  knew  no  more  till  the  job  of  inserting  numer- 
ous rubber  tubes  through  the  leg  was  finished. 
Having  to  spend  two  nights  on  ambulances  and 
trains,  I  arrived  at  a  British  base  hospital  in 
Boulogne.  I  remember  the  people  cheering  as 
our  train  pulled  in,  but  I  wasn't  in  the  mood  for 
caring  what  they  did. 

The  treatment  was  of  the  best  in  this  hospital, 
though  I  only  remained  in  it  fourteen  days.  In 
the  bed  next  to  mine  there  was  a  Scotchman  who 
kept  yelling  continually.  His  leg  had  been  am- 
putated so  I  couldn't  see  what  he  had  to  kick 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  113 

about.  Nevertheless,  it  made  it  quite  impossible 
to  get  any  rest  at  all. 

On  the  morning  of  June  Srd,  the  doctor 
marked  me  "out,"  which  meant  that  I  was  going 
to  "Blighty."  I  hardly  realized  what  it  meant 
then. 

Again  I  was  on  the  table — this  time  to  cut  an 
abscess  and  to  put  a  cumbersome  iron  splint  on 
me.  I  think  they  called  it  a  Hodgson's  splint, 
one  of  those  afTfairs  that  extended  down  two 
sides  of  the  body  to  the  feet.  It  took  up  a  lot 
of  room — so  much  so  that  I  had  to  have  a  Ford 
ambulance  all  to  myself;  consequently  at  the 
boat's  side  I  was  taken  for  an  officer  and  treated 
as  one.     This  I  didn't  object  to  in  the  least. 

The  Abert  set  sail  soon  after,  and  about  two 
hours  afterward  we  were  in  Dover,  where  we 
entrained,  in  a  regular  hospital  train.  I  was 
marked  for  Norvv^ich,  in  the  County  of  Nor- 
folk, a  short  distance  from  the  east  coast.  The 
night  of  June  5th  our  train  pulled  into  Norwich 
station,  where  the  Red  Cross  ambulance  con- 
veyed us  to  our  hospital.  I  found  myself  in  a 
military  ward  of  the  General  Hospital  of  Nor- 
wich, but  only  for  a  few  minutes.  They  dis- 
covered that  the  beds  were  too  small  for  both 
myself  and  the  splint,  so  I  was  shifted  to  another 
ward,  where  I  was  put  to  bed,  and  became  very 


114  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

much  attached  to  this  same  bed  for  ten  long 
months,  undergoing  nine  more  operations  in 
the  hope  of  saving  the  limb.  They  eventually 
took  it  off,  but  I  always  have  the  consolation  of 
knowing  that  I  am  far  better  ofif  than  a  good 
many  others. 

Editor's  note: — The  verses  embodied  in  this 
story  are  in  no  way  changed,  but  are  printed 
exactly  as  Mr.  Oxton  delivered  them  to  me. 

H.  L.  F. 


'WHY  I  HATE  A  GERMAN" 

BY  PVT.  JOHN  T.  MILLER,  NO.  \229S7,  96TH  CO., 

6th  regt.,  u.  s.  marines 

ON  THE  afternoon  of  July  24,  1917,  as  I 
was  walking  along  the  streets  of  Detroit, 
Michigan,  my  attention  was  attracted  by  the 
beat  of  drums  and  the  tramp  of  marching  men. 
It  then  dawned  on  me  that  I  was  big  enough  to 
do  my  bit,  so  I  went  to  the  Marine  recruiting 
office,  enlisted,  and  was  sent  to  Paris  Island, 
S.  C,  where  I  was  trained  for  four  months.  On 
January  19,  1918,  I  left  New  York  and  after 
thirteen  days  arrived  at  a  port  in  France.  It 
was  there  I  got  my  first  glimpse  of  war.  We 
were  loaded  in  box  cars  about  half  the  size  of 
American  cars.  They  are  built  for  eight  horses, 
but  forty  marines  had  to  spend  sixty  hours  in 
them.  We  were  then  in  the  zone  of  advance,  but 
stayed  only  about  three  weeks.  We  went  into  the 
line  the  first  night.  It  was  an  experience  I  shall 
never  forget.  Cigarettes  were  barred  and  no 
loud  talking  permitted.  I  thought  it  very 
funny,  but  soon  learned  different.  The  third 
night  in,  "Heinie"  paid  us  a  visit.    There  were 

115 


ii6  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

thirty-seven  of  us,  holding  about  500  yards  of 
front  line.  This  at  one  time  was  a  quiet  sector 
but  it  woke  up  on  this  night.  We  had  no  re- 
serves, and  retreat  was  impossible,  so  all  we  had 
to  do  was  to  stay  and  entertain  our  visitors. 
There  were  about  250,  and  none  of  them  looked 
starve  to  death.  After  the  barrage  lifted  we 
saw  some  of  the  boys  that  we  had  traveled  over 
three  thousand  miles  to  see.  I  was  in  a  daze 
when  I  saw  my  first  "Heinie,"  and  he  looked 
about  as  big  as  the  Woolworth  Building.  But 
I  woke  up  in  time  to  realize  that  I  had  a 
rifle  and  hadn't  forgotten  how  to  use  it.  "Heinie" 
stopped  in  our  wire  and  stayed  there.  Our 
visitors  were  all  given  a  royal  reception.  Six  of 
our  boys  went  to  the  hospital  but  we  left  over 
a  hundred  of  the  Kaiser's  boys  in  front  of,  and 
in,  the  trench,  and  had  the  trouble  of  burying 
them.  From  that  night  on  we  took  more  precau- 
tion and  I  was  one  that  was  made  the  goat.  My 
"bunkie"  and  1  took  up  our  post  in  No  Man's 
Land  at  sunset  each  night  and  stayed  until  mid- 
night. We  were  put  there  for  the  purpose  of 
announcing  *'Heinie"  if  he  should  call  again. 

"Heinie"  did  not  worry  me  so  much,  but  the 
rats,  which  v^e  called  "war  babies,"  insisted  on 
sleeping  in  my  arms.  And  as  we  were  in  a 
position  where  the  slightest  noise  would  send 


PRIVATE  JOHN  T.   MILLER 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  117 

us  to  the  hospital  or  perhaps  "west,"  the  "war 
babies"  had  everything  their  own  way.  And  the 
"cooties"  would  keep  us  company  every  night. 
They  would  parade  up  and  down  my  back  and 
of  course  I  had  to  stand  for  it.  I  laid  out  there 
three  nights  with  my  pal.  On  the  fourth  day 
about  five  o'clock  we  decided  to  wash,  as  it 
would  be  the  first  time  in  five  days.  We  got 
down  to  the  spring  without  being  seen  and  were 
enjoying  a  wonderful  bath  when  the  "Heinie" 
spotted  us  and  started  to  snipe  with  his  six-inch 
shells.  Bill  and  I  made  for  the  dugout  and  had 
about  two  hundred  feet  to  go  when  a  shell  hit 
under  Bill's  feet.  I  did  not  stop,  for  it  was  use- 
less, as  all  I  could  see  was  blood  and  a  part  of 
a  shattered  leg.  We  picked  Bill  up  in  a  box. 
It  sure  hit  me  hard,  but  it  is  all  in  the  game. 
I  swore  that  night  I  would  get  even,  and  I  think 
I  have.  After  three  months  in  the  front  line, 
in  and  around  Verdun,  we  went  out  for  a  rest, 
but  not  for  long.  We  had  been  in  a  rest  camp 
about  ten  days,  when  on  the  night  of  May  28th, 
at  nine  o'clock,  we  were  ordered  to  move  up  the 
line,  and  stop  "Heinie,"  who  wanted  to  make 
Paris  his  headquarters.  We  were  loaded  in 
motor  lorries  and  rode  all  night  and  part  of  the 
day. 

We  arrived  at  a  little  town  and  got  something 


ii8  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

to  eat,  the  first  we  had  in  twenty-four  hours.  We 
then  started  on  a  march  which  lasted  thirty-six 
hours,  when  wc  arrived  at  a  town  about  five 
miles  behind  the  line,  tired  and  hungry.  I  will 
go  on  record,  right  here,  to  say  that  I  have  been 
over  every  inch  of  France,  in  box  cars,  hospital 
trains,  motor  lorries,  and  the  rest  I  hiked.  We 
arrived  at  this  town  about  2  A.M.  and  were 
ordered  into  the  line,  but  thanks  to  our  com- 
manding officer  we  did  not  go.  The  inhabitants 
had  evacuated  and  we  were  told  to  go  and  sleep 
in  any  house  we  could  find.  It  was  here  that  I 
saw  the  first  example  of  German  "Kultur."  In 
a  room  in  the  house  I  went  into,  I  saw  a  mother 
with  part  of  her  head  blown  of?,  with  a  six- 
months'-old  baby  in  her  arms,  both  lying  on  the 
bed,  dead.  In  the  corner  was  a  six-year-old  boy 
who  had  evidently  been  killed  by  the  same  shell 
that  killed  the  mother  and  baby.  But  with  all 
that  I  had  a  good  night's  sleep,  which  I  needed. 
In  the  morning  we  killed  what  live  stock  we 
could  find,  and  sure  did  eat.  That  night  we 
were  ordered  into  the  line  and  there  we  began 
to  see  real  war. 

"Heinie"  started  to  send  over  everything  he 
had,  in  the  way  of  shells,  high  explosives,  shrap- 
nel and  machine  gun  bullets.  There  were  no 
trenches  and  the  only  protection  we  had  were 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  irg 

the  holes  which  we  dug  to  lie  in.  Things  were 
flying  and  I  did  not  take  time  to  get  my  shoveL 
which  I  had  in  my  pack,  but  used  my  mess  gear 
instead.  We  laid  in  those  holes  for  three  days  and 
dared  not  stick  our  heads  up.  If  we  did  it  meant 
"taps,"  and  that  we  would  not  have  to  answer 
"reveille"  in  the  morning.  What  we  had  to  eat 
we  had  at  night,  and  it  was  very  little,  a  French 
ration,  consisting  of  "monkey  meat"  and  French 
bread ;  but  anything  tasted  good.  One  night  a 
lad  from  Texas,  who  was  not  satisfied  with  his 
"Boudoir"  in  the  ground,  decided  to  change 
hotels.  About  that  time  "Heinie"  saved  him  the 
trouble  by  sending  an  eight-inch  H.  E.  which 
made  a  hole  big  enough  to  put  a  regiment  in. 
So  "Tex"  decided  to  take  up  quarters  in  it.  He 
had  just  arrived  in  his  new  home  (or  hole)  when 
"Heinie"  duplicated  the  order,  which  hit  on 
the  edge  of  the  first  hole.  "Tex"  came  sailing 
over  my  head.  I  first  thought  he  had  joined  the 
aviation,  and  was  going  to  Heaven,  but  when 
I  looked  around  there  was  "Tex"  sitting  on  the 
ground  trying  to  find  out  if  he  was  all  together, 
and  cursing  Heinie  for  being  so  attentive.  Look- 
ing at  me  he  said: 

"Can  you  imagine  those  Dutchmen  sniping  at 
me  with  an  eight-inch  gun." 

On  the  afternoon  of   {une  6th.  we  received 


I20  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

orders  to  pack  up  and  we  all  had  the  idea  that 
we  were  to  get  a  rest.  All  were  counting  on  the 
sleep  and  bath  we  would  have.  But  no  such 
luck.  It  was  here  when  the  French  had  retreated 
so  far  that  the  artillery  was  no  good  to  us,  and 
the  general  in  charge  of  the  division  said  the 
words  that  will  remain  in  history  forever,  "Re- 
treat, Hell,  we  are  going  ahead."  And  we  were 
ordered  to  go  "Over  the  Top"  at  5.15.  The  or- 
der came  at  five  o'clock.  I  cannot  describe  the 
feeling  one  has  while  waiting  for  the  word.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  the  time  v^^ould  never  come. 
But  suddenly  the  silence  was  broken  by  the  blast 
of  a  whistle  and  we  were  on  our  way.  The  sun 
was  shining  and  the  country  looked  wonderful, 
and  across  the  wheat  we  started,  to  reach  our 
objective,  which  was  the  town  of  Bourches.  We 
had  gone  no  more  than  about  one  hundred  feet 
when  our  captain,  the  first  man  to  go  down,  was 
hit  six  times  in  the  body.  I  began  to  realize 
then  what  we  were  up  against,  for  "Heinie" 
must  have  had  a  million  machine  guns  and  they 
were  all  working. 

The  boys  started  to  fall  and  all  that  was  heard 
was,  "I'm  hit,"  or  "Heinie  got  me."  A  lad  be- 
side me  "got  it"  in  the  ankle,  and  said  to  me: 
"Kid,  what  do  you  think  of  that  dirty  bunch  of 
Dutchmen.    They  won't  even  let  me  get  started. 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  121 

When  you  get  into  the  town,  kill  ten  for  me." 
I  promised  him  I  would,  and  left  him.  I 
don't  know  whether  I  fulfilled  my  promise,  but 
I  told  him  I  did  when  I  saw  him  later  in  the 
hospital.  When  I  arrived  at  the  town,  which 
was  our  objective,  there  were  forty-seven  left  of 
256  in  our  original  company.  The  Germans 
were  in  one  end  of  the  town  and  we  were  in  the 
other,  and,  as  the  reader  will  understand,  one 
town  could  not  hold  both  parties,  so  we  started 
to  move  "Heinie."  Some  of  us  were  detailed  to 
put  "Heinie"  out  and  it  was  no  easy  job,  for 
every  "Heinie"  had  a  machine  gun.  But  it  was 
the  same  old  story,  they  would  fire  their  guns 
until  we  were  on  top  of  them,  then  throw  up 
their  hands,  shout  "Kamerad"  and  beg  for 
mercy.  But  after  you  go  through  as  far  as  that, 
you  cease  to  be  human  and  don't  know  what 
mercy  is.  We  reached  our  objective  at  5.30  P:M. 
and  at  nine  o'clock  by  direction  of  one  lieuten- 
ant, the  only  officer  left  in  the  company,  and  a 
pal  to  all  the  boys,  we  had  "Heinie"  on  the  out- 
side, the  town  fortified,  and  nine  hundred  men 
put  into  the  position.  Again,  and  up  until  the 
time  I  was  hit,  it  w^as  little  or  no  sleep,  for 
"Heinie"  insisted  upon  coming  back  into  the 
town. 

On  the  afternoon  of  June  10th,  I  was  going 


122  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

after  some  water,  and  some  "Heinie"  with  a 
machine  gun  gave  me  my  fare  to  the  hospital, 
in  the  form  of  a  bullet  in  the  knee.  Some  of  the 
boys  carried  me  into  a  dugout,  where  I  had  to 
wait  until  dark,  and  then  was  carried  to  the  rear, 
put  in  a  Ford  ambulance  and  started  to  Paris. 
Twenty-seven  miles  in  a  Ford,  on  a  stretcher, 
is  no  joy  ride,  but  it  was  good  enough.  Then  I 
reached  the  hospital  in  Paris.  I  had  not  had 
my  clothes  off  for  fifty-seven  days.  When  I  got 
a  bath  and  saw  a  bed,  with  w^hite  linen  and 
blankets,  and  something  real  to  eat,  I  thought  I 
was  in  paradise.  After  the  operation,  all  I  could 
do  was  to  sing,  "Please  go  away  and  let  me 
sleep."  After  three  months  in  the  hospitals  of 
France,  I  was  put  on  a  transport  and  started  for 
New  York.  I  am  now  in  the  hospital,  awaiting 
discharge,  and  think  it  all  a  dream,  and  am  in 
fear  that  some  one  will  pinch  me,  and  I  will 
wake  up. 


*'MY  DUTY  TO  MY  COUNTRY" 

BY  PVT.  JACK  KNEELAND,  NO.  105,  43 RD  CO.,  5tH 
REGT.,  U.  S.  MARINES 

WHEN  the  great  World  War  was  raging, 
and  the  United  States  were  preparing  for 
any  trouble  that  might  occur  between  her  and 
the  Teutonic  Government,  I  was  playing  in 
vaudeville.  April  6th  we  received  word  that 
our  Government  declared  war  on  Germany. 
Immediately  I  decided  to  quit  the  show  busi- 
ness and  go  into  the  service,  but  what  branch 
I  did  not  know  as  I  was  unfamiliar  with  the 
different  outfits  of  Uncle  Sam's  noble  army  and 
navy.  As  I  was  walking  down  the  street  I  hap- 
pened to  notice  different  recruiting  officers,  ap- 
pealing to  the  men  to  enlist  in  the  several  out- 
fits we  have,  for  the  sake  of  our  folks  at  home, 
and  for  democracy.  I  happened  to  think  of  the 
navy  as  a  good  chance,  but  as  I  wished  to  be  in 
the  thick  of  the  battles  and  excitement  I  decided 
it  was  either  the  army  or  the  United  States  Ma- 
rines. While  I  was  trying  to  fix  my  mind  on 
what  I  should  do,  a  marine  sergeant  came  and 
started  talking  to  me  and  asked  me  what  I  was 

123 


124  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

going  to  do.  I  told  him  I  was  ready  for  the 
worst,  and  that  I  was  anxious  to  go  across  the 
water  and  do  my  bit.  He  said  that  the  United 
States  Marines  was  the  place  for  me,  a  boy  with 
the  spirit  Americans  wanted.  Well,  it  did  not 
take  me  long  to  make  up  my  mind,  and  shortly 
I  was  being  examined  by  the  doctor  for  physi- 
cal fitness.  I  was  confident  I  would  pass  the 
rigid  test  that  is  given  to  the  marines  as  I  had 
never  had  an  illness  of  any  kind  in  my  life. 
After  the  examination  I  was  told  I  was  100  per 
cent  perfect,  and  sworn  in  as  a  private  in  the  sol- 
diers of  the  sea,  as  we  call  the  marines.  First 
to  fight  on  land  and  sea.  Three  days  later  I 
was  called  to  depart  for  Paris  Island,  S.  C, 
where  I  was  to  get  my  training.  I  arrived  the 
15th  of  April  and  was  immediately  sent  to  a 
quarantine  station  where  all  preparations  were 
given,  such  as  clothes,  finger  prints  taken,  and 
then  I  was  finally  sworn  in  once  more,  on  the 
21st  day  of  April.  After  all  these  proceedings 
were  over,  I  was  sent  to  the  maneuvering  ground 
where  the  greatest  task  lay.  We  drilled  from 
morning  until  late  in  the  evening,  but  I  did  not 
mind  it  as  I  knew  that  it  was  for  a  good  pur- 
pose. Digging  trenches,  hand  grenade  practice, 
bayonet  drills  and  rifle  practice  were  our  con- 
tinual routine,  for  fully  three  months.     I  wa^ 


PRIVATE  JACK  KNEELAND 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  125 

then  transferred  to  Marine  Barracks,  Philadel- 
phia, for  duty,  where  I  was  assigned  to  the  5th 
Regiment  to  be  ready  for  overseas  duty. 

On  the  21st  day  of  August,  we  received  word 
to  get  ready  to  sail.  We  were  then  given  over- 
seas equipment  and  boarded  the  transport  Hen- 
derson.  We  went  to  New  York,  where  we 
loaded  supplies  and  stores  for  the  trip,  and 
started  on  our  way  to  No  Man's  Land  at  mid- 
night the  226..  As  the  submarines  were  active 
at  that  time  we  were  somewhat  delayed  in  get- 
ting there.  But  we  finally  arrived  without  a 
scratch.  We  landed  on  the  7th  day  of  Septem- 
ber in  St.  Nazarre,  France.  There  we  were 
taken  to  the  Rue  Du  Chateau,  where  we  were 
assigned  to  barracks. 

Here  we  received  our  severe  training.  It  was 
drill  morning,  school  in  afternoon,  drill  in  even- 
ing, for  two  and  a  half  months.  After  this  we 
were  ready  for  anything  that  might  be  needed 
of  us. 

On  the  17th  of  November  our  commander 
received  orders  to  take  our  men  to  the  Flanders 
Front,  where  we  were  to  hold  the  southeastern 
corner  of  the  Marne  with  the  Australian  An- 
zacs.  We  immediately  departed  and  arrived 
there  on  a  very  rainy  day. 

Now  comes  the  first  real  encounter  the  Amer- 


126  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

icans  took  part  in.  The  Germans  sent  us  a  rapid 
shell  fire  from  their  position  opposite  to  us.  We 
immediately  sent  back  an  intense  machine  gun 
fire.  The  battle  raged  on  for  seventeen  hours. 
I  received  a  wound  in  the  leg  and  was  imme- 
diately sent  to  base  hospital  where  I  was  at  once 
treated.  We  were  treated  fine  because  the 
French  now  realized  that  we  were  with  them  in 
heart  and  soul.  I  remained  in  hospital  twenty- 
three  days,  and  then  was  sent  back  to  the  Front, 
this  time  to  join  the  43rd  Regt.,  2nd  Division, 
who  were  holding  a  front  in  Belgium  on  the 
Cambrai  side.  We  advanced  and  took  several 
little  towns  around  Soissons  and  stopped  at  St. 
Quentin  which  was  being  shelled  by  the  Aus- 
trians.  We  took  position  and  immediately 
started  offensive.  We  succeeded  in  capturing 
two  thousand  prisoners  who  were  sent  to  one  of 
the  French  prison  camps.  After  this  encounter 
we  were  sent  to  rest  camps,  where  our  clothes 
were  replaced  by  new  ones,  and  allowed  to  visit 
the  neighboring  towns  for  seventy-two  hours.  I, 
with  a  comrade  who  you  will  read  about  later, 
went  to  Paris  and  had  a  very  good  time. 

The  French  people  could  think  of  nothing  too 
good  for  us.  After  having  a  fine  time,  we 
reported  back  and  occupied  the  second  line,  with 
the  Canadians,  and  once  more  at  Sartormai  J 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  127 

was  sent  with  a  message  to  Major  General 
Leonard  Wood.  It  was  a  dispatch  of  fifty-three 
miles  and  I  was  to  do  this  in  an  hour  and  ten 
minutes.  I  had  a  Harley  Twin  Six,  and  I  started 
out.  It  was  about  9.30,  Paris  time,  when  I  was 
passing  through  a  lonely  village,  a  German 
sniper  picked  me  off  in  the  head.  I  regained 
consciousness  and  fired  my  Colt  automatic  and 
got  my  man.  I  succeeded  in  reaching  my  des- 
tination two  minutes  before  time;  but  in  an 
unconscious  condition.  I  guess  the  good  Lord 
was  good  to  me  and  brought  me  to  life  again 
so  that  I  could  explain  my  mission.  I  was  taken 
to  Base  Hospital  No.  3,  where  my  wound  was 
treated  with  care  and  the  lead  extracted.  For 
two  weeks  and  a  half  I  was  practically  senseless. 
My  memory  was  impaired,  caused  by  the  shock 
of  the  bullet,  and  the  intense  speed  I  was  going. 
In  this  hospital  I  met  a  German  who  had  been 
captured  and  had  been  sent  to  the  hospital  to 
be  treated  for  a  scalp  wound.  He  was  a  very 
well-educated  boy,  about  nineteen  years  old  and 
could  speak  English  very  well. 

He  told  me  about  how,  against  his  will,  he  was 
dragged  in  and  made  to  fight  for  Prussianism 
when  he  always  believed  in  democracy.  It 
almost  brought  tears  to  my  eyes  to  listen  to  his 
story  about  the  people  who  were  wishing  that 


128  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

the  Kaiser  and  the  Teutonic  power  would  be 
killed,  instead  of  taking  every  young  fellow 
against  his  will  and  making  him  fight.  I  soon 
recovered,  bid  this  boy  good-bye,  and  moved  on 
to  the  second  division,  who  were  still  occupying 
Flanders  Front. 

One  day  while  wading  through  mud,  a  big 
shell  exploded  in  front  of  us  and  we  lost  a  great 
number  of  men,  and  I  fell  into  the  shell  crater 
with  nine  other  men.  The  crater  must  have 
been  forty  feet  deep,  with  about  three  feet  of 
mud  at  the  surface.  Here  we  did  not  eat  for 
five  days.  We  had  to  drink  the  green  slime  and 
mud  so  that  we  might  not  perish  from  thirst. 
Every  time  we  wanted  to  sleep  we  would  fall 
in  this  mud  and  wake  up  all  caked  with  it.  We 
were  finally  rescued  by  a  French  patrol  party, 
and  given  plenty  of  food  and  nourishment  to  put 
us  on  our  feet  again.  Wc  were  sent  to  a  con- 
valescent camp,  and  told  to  do  nothing  but  rest. 
After  resting  for  a  month  I  was  again  placed 
in  position  with  our  snipers,  with  Private  Al 
Barker  as  my  companion.  I  at  once  took  posi- 
tion in  the  limbs  of  a  tree,  so  that  I  could  notice 
any  patrols  that  might  pass.  On  our  southern 
corner  we  saw  a  raiding  party  of  Germans,  fix- 
ing their  machine  guns  to  clean  up  a  town  called 
St.   Forme.    We   immediately   opened   fire   on 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  129 

these  men,  and  succeeded  in  picking  off  a  large 
majority  of  them.  Suddenly  my  comrade  re- 
ceived a  wound  in  the  knee  and  fell  to  the 
ground.  I  descended  and,  picking  him  up,  car- 
ried him  safely  to  our  lines,  receiving  at  the 
same  time  three  bullet  wounds. 

We  were  sent  to  Base  Hospital  No.  16,  where 
we  were  operated  on.  It  seemed  as  though  it 
was  a  year  before  we  were  well.  Finally  we 
were  sent  to  the  front  at  Belleau  Woods.  This 
place  was  approximately  the  turning  point  of 
the  war.  It  is  situated  thirty-eight  miles  from 
Paris,  and  the  Crown  Prince's  army  were  trying 
to  advance  through  it.  Here  for  forty-eight 
hours  we  were  continually  on  the  alert,  always 
watching  the  Germans.  We  did  not  eat  for 
forty  hours. 

On  the  iSth  of  July  at  12.03  A.M.  we 
received  the  call  to  arms.  We  were  ordered  to 
advance  to  the  Forest  of  Pere  where  a  great 
number  of  Germans  were  operating.  We  trav- 
eled seven  and  a  half  miles  on  foot  and  placed 
ourselves  on  the  southeastern  part  of  Chateau- 
Thierry.  We  opened  fire  immediately,  and  this 
is  where  the  bloodiest  encounter  of  our  service 
took  place.  We  succeeded  in  starving  our  op- 
ponents and  cut  off  all  their  ammunition.  It 
was  a  big  disaster  to  us  as  they  outnumbered  us 


I30  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

four  to  one.  After  the  British  had  been  thrown 
back,  the  marines  took  the  field  and  succeeded 
in  annihilating  the  Crown  Prince's  army. 

Of  our  battalion,  of  one  thousand  men,  only 
147  survived,  and  practically  all  of  these  were 
wounded.  The  Germans,  seeing  that  they  were 
beaten,  immediately  sent  over  their  fumes  of 
deadly  mustard  gas  and  liquid  fire.  I  happened 
to  be  one  of  the  unlucky  ones  and  received  a  big 
dose  of  it.  It  fairly  burned  the  clothes  from  my 
back,  blinding  me  instantly,  and  deafened  me. 
I  was  taken  to  Base  Hospital  No.  23  where  I  re- 
mained forty-two  days.  After  I  had  recovered 
a  little  I  was  sent  to  a  convalescent  camp  to 
await  my  departure  for  the  good  old  U.  S.  A. 
On  September  24th  I  sailed  from  Brest  and 
arrived  safely  in  Hoboken,  October  3,  1918. 


THE   "DARDANELLES"   CAMPAIGN 

BY  SGT.  M.  L.  NICHOLSON,  NO.  3736,   IOTH 
LIVERPOOL  SCOrnSH,  B.E.F. 

AT  THE  outbreak  of  the  war  I  enlisted  in 
-  the  10th  Liverpool  Scottish  Regiment, 
B.E.F.  It  was  at  2.30  P.M.  on  September  14, 
1914,  I  went  into  the  recruiting  office,  and  of- 
fered my  services.  The  captain  looked  at  me 
and  said,  "I  am  afraid  you  are  too  young."  I 
was  then  seventeen  years  of  age.  With  tears  in 
my  eyes  I  walked  out  only  to  meet  my  six  pals 
who  were  in  kilts.  One  of  them,  ''Vic"  Gordon, 
said : 

"Come  back  at  five  o'clock  and  try  again;" 
so  I  made  up  my  mind  I  would  get  in  the  army 
at  five  o'clock  that  day,  and  1  was  accepted,  1 
think,  because  they  were  so  busy  in  the  office 
that  they  did  not  notice  me.  Well,  I  went  home 
the  day  after  with  my  knees  all  bare ;  perhaps 
for  the  first  time  since  my  childhood.  My  folks 
just  roared  and  laughed  at  me,  saying,  "You  will 
never  make  a  soldier,"  and  a  lot  more  things 
that  made  my  Scotch  blood  boil. 

I  stayed  at  home  for  three  days  before  1  was 


132  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

called,  and  then,  only  then  did  I  know  what 
being  a  soldier  meant.  The  first  thing  was  to 
learn  how  to  turn  and  salute,  then  came  a  route 
march,  around  the  country  for  ten  miles.  It 
was  no  joke  with  great  big  army  boots  that 
weighed  about  fifteen  pounds, — it  seemed  that 
much  to  me.  After  being  in  the  army  for  about 
four  weeks,  we  were  brought  to  the  fields  to 
drill.  What  I  could  not  understand  was,  that 
they  put  cows  and  other  animals  into  this  big- 
field  the  night  before  and  that  field  was  just  ter- 
rible for  a  man  to  walk  on,  let  alone  lay  down 
in.  We  were  all  wondering  what  we  were  going 
to  do,  and,  I  can  tell  you,  it  wasn't  long  before 
we  found  out.  The  captain  came  up  to  us  and 
said: 

"All  right,  boys,  we  are  ready  for  some  drill 
in  this  field." 

You  should  have  seen  the  look  on  some  of  the 
boys'  faces.  I  may  mention  that  some  of  them 
were  bankers  and  lawyers  and  even  millionaires' 
sons.  I  heard  one  man  say  in  a  typical  English 
way:  "Oh!  isn't  the  army  beastly,  old  man." 

Of  course,  not  being  used  to  army  life,  it 
would  make  any  man  swear,  but  as  the  days 
rolled  on  we  all  got  used  to  it.  They  moved  us 
from  a  place  called  "Slop  Field''  in  Liverpool 
to  a  place  called  No  Man's  Field  in  Blackpool. 


SERGT.   MARK  L.   NICHOLSON 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  133 

Every  day  it  rained  we  would  go  on  this  field 
'for  extended  order  drill.  At  any  rate  we  became 
used  to  army  life  in,  what  I  thought,  a  very 
short  time.  Tt  was  in  November,  1914,  about 
seven  o'clock  when  we  arrived  at  Southampton, 
and  were  put  up,  for  the  night,  in  stables,  with 
damp  blankets  to  cover  ourselves.  After  that 
night  I  began  to  suspect  something.  I  just  sat 
down  to  think  that  they  were  breaking  us  in  for 
France.  We  were  in  this  place  till  December 
3rd  and  at  twelve  that  night  we  sailed  for  an 
unknown  destination.  We  arrived  at  a  place 
called  Le  Havre,  France.  There  I  met  with  an 
accident.  A  horse  kicked  me  in  the  right  leg, 
and  put  me  out  of  business  for  a  month.  That 
was  my  start  to  see  real  life.  I  was  fixed  up  by 
the  Red  Cross  and  sent  to  a  battalion  called  the 
Lancashire  Fusileers.  We  left  France  and 
arrived  in  London,  January  10th.  They  gave 
us  ten  days  leave,  and  packed  us  on  a  big  liner 
called  the  Alaunia.  We  left  on  this  liner  and 
I  did  not  know  where  I  was  until  we  arrived  at 
Gibraltar.  We  were  there  for  five  hours — then 
set  sail  for  Malta.  We  received  orders  not  to 
leave  the  ship  as  we  would  not  be  there  more 
than  twelve  hours,  and  that  twelve  hours  seemed 
like  twelve  years.  We  could  see  all  the  people 
and  shops  but  we  could  not  get  to  them.    We 


134  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

sailed  away  from  Malta  to  an  unknown  destina- 
tion. About  one  hundred  miles  out  to  sea  we 
received  orders  to  turn  back,  on  account  of  the 
submarines  being  very  active  around  that  dis- 
trict, but  an  hour  after  we  received  that  message, 
we  had  orders  to  proceed  on  our  journey,  and  all 
the  way  we  could  see  dead  horses  and  boxes  float- 
ing on  the  water.  We  were  told  later  that  a  ship 
had  been  torpedoed  a  short  distance  in  front  of 
us.  We  were  out  three  days  when  we  sighted 
land,  and,  believe  me,  it  was  a  treat,  as  the  drill 
on  the  ship  was  very  bad.  The  boys  had  to  scrub 
out  their  bunks  and  the  decks,  and  others  had  to 
keep  watch  all  night,  for  the  little  devils  in  the 
water.  Anyway,  it  was  a  great  relief  when  we 
disembarked  at  Alexandria,  Egypt.  It  was  some 
place.  I  met  people  from  all  over  the  world. 
We  were  taken  over  to  the  barracks  and  a  very 
funny  thing  happened.  I  was  in  charge  of 
twenty-four  men,  and  let  me  tell  you  they  were 
all  rough  necks.  I  asked  one  how  he  liked  the 
place  and  he  said : 

"Oh,  I  would  like  to  be  in  the  Bee  Hotel, 
playing  a  game  of  pool."  He  had  just  time  to 
get  those  words  out  of  his  mouth  when  a  man 
with  a  big  cigar  in  his  mouth  put  his  arm 
around  his  neck  and  shouted: 

"Tom!  my  dear  brother." 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  135 

You  should  have  seen  how  they  hugged  and 
kissed  each  other  for  about  fifteen  minutes.  All 
this  time  the  rest  of  the  boys  were  trying  to  make 
out  the  Arabs.  They  were  visitors,  looking  at  us 
with  open  mouths.  We  had  our  drill  on  a  desert 
and  with  a  broiling  sun  on  us  all  the  time.  We 
left  Alexandria  the  latter  end  of  March,  1915, 
and  arrived  at  Lemnos,  a  Greek  Island,  later 
used  as  a  hospital  base.  After  we  left  Lemnos 
in  a  convoy  of  about  fifteen  ships  we  arrived  at 
our  destination,  the  Dardanelles.  All  that  we 
could  see  in  front  of  us  was  a  great  big  hill. 
Later  we  found  out  they  called  it  Kemara  Hill. 
The  spirit  of  everyone  was  good.  We  were 
issued  200  rounds  of  ammunition  and  carried 
our  packs  on  our  backs.  All  that  I  could  hear 
from  the  boys  was : 

"We  will  take  that  hill  by  the  morning." 

Little  did  w^e  know  what  was  in  store  for  us. 
Orders  came  to  disembark,  so  we  all  helped  to 
lower  the  life  boats,  and  climbed  down  the  rope 
ladders  into  them.  I  was  all  settled  down  with 
the  rest  of  the  boys  to  make  a  clean  landing 
without  the  Turks  knowing.  Up  came  a  tug 
boat  and  took  about  ten  small  boats  in  tow. 

Just  at  that  moment  we  were  under  fire.  The 
big  battleships  opened  up,  and  it  was  some  bom- 
bardment.     The    15-inch    guns   on    the    Queen 


136  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

Elizabeth  let  go  with  the  rest.  We  were  about 
twenty  yards  ofif  the  beach  when,  before  my  eyes, 
I  saw  my  comrades  fall  in  the  water,  boats 
capsizing,  rifles  in  the  air,  and  arms  and  legs 
flying  around.  On  seeing  this  our  tug  turned 
toward  Cape  Helios,  on  the  right  of  West 
Beach,  and  every  man  made  for  the  water.  Some 
managed  to  get  on  land.  You  see,  the  Turks, 
mastered  by  German  officers,  put  barbed  wire 
entanglements  into  the  water.  They  knew  we 
could  only  land  in  small  boats  as  the  water  was 
not  deep  enough  for  a  liner  to  get  close.  As  the 
life  boats  turned,  they  got  tangled  in  the  wire 
and  overturned.  Some  of  the  boys  tried  to  grasp 
hold  of  the  wire,  but  had  to  let  go,  as  it  cut  their 
hands,  and  of  course  they  were  drowned.  We 
lost  an  awful  number  of  men  before  the  real 
scrap  began,  and  I  will  say  it  was  some  landing. 
I  did  not  believe  I  could  come  through  this  bit 
of  a  scrap.  When  I  landed  I  looked  to  see  if 
I  was  all  there.  The  Turks  had  trenches  right 
up  to  the  water's  edge,  and,  God  bless  those 
Australians,  they  drove  the  Turks  out  of  the 
first  line  and  gave  us  a  chance  to  land.  I  asked 
a  chap  next  to  me  what  he  thought  of  it  and 
how  he  liked  it.  Well,  he  gave  me  a  look  enough 
to  kill  me,  and  said,  "Well,  the  first  five  years 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  137 

is  the  worst.    After  that  I  suppose  we  will  get 
used  to  it." 

I  was  five  days  on  land  when  I  began  to  feel 
the  strain  of  not  having  enough  food  or  water. 
Water  was  scarce  and  my  mouth  was  all  blist- 
ered, it  was  so  hot.  We  were  getting  a  little 
supply  of  water  and  biscuits  from  the  ships. 
They  came  in  gasoline  cans  that  had  not  been 
washed  out  properly,  but  we  were  so  thirsty  that 
we  did  not  bother  about  the  taste. 

When  I  received  my  wound  on  the  head,  I  did 
not  know  what  hit  me,  but  I  found  myself  on 
board  a  boat  called  Andania,  a  sister  ship  to 
the  one  I  left  England  in.  I  had  a  big  bandage 
stuck  on  my  head  and  was  shipped  to  Lemnos.  I 
lost  my  memory  for  a  bit  and  they  called  me  a 
serious  case,  so  they  packed  me  to  a  hospital  in 
Alexandria.  I  fell  unconscious  again  for  ten 
hours  and,  as  I  opened  my  eyes,  I  could  just 
see  a  pair  of  lovely  blue  ones  looking  down  at 
me,  and  a  little  motherly  hand  grasped  mine. 
I  cannot  explain  the  feeling  in  my  heart  in 
w^ords,  when  I  saw  it  was  a  mother.  I  called 
her  mother  because  she  was  a  Red  Cross  nurse. 
The  first  thing  she  asked  me  was,  "Can  I  write 
a  letter  home  for  you?"  You  can  imagine  what 
I  said.  I  had  not  heard  from  home  since  I  left, 
and  I  told  her  to  write  and  say  I  was  all  right 


138  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

and  would  be  home  soon.  I  was  in  that  hospital 
three  weeks  and  every  day  I  would  ask  that 
lovely  mother  to  write  for  me,  as  I  was  too  weak 
to  write  myself.  It  broke  my  heart  when  1  had 
to  leave  that  hospital  as  all  the  nurses  were  so 
kind  to  me.  I  sailed  on  a  hospital  ship  for  Eng- 
land and  was  put  in  a  hospital  in  Liverpool,  my 
own  home  town.  In  this  hospital  there  was  a 
funny  Irish  boy  who  had  come  from  France  and 
was  all  covered  with  bandages.  I  made  a  pal 
of  him,  and  the  jokes  he  used  to  tell  me  made 
me  forget  the  pain.  One  Wednesday  a  lady 
came  to  see  us  in  the  hospital  and  looked  at  me, 
saying: 

"Were  you  hurt  at  the  Front,"  and  my  Irish 
pal  answered  for  me,  saying:  "No,  ma'am,  sure 
he  tripped  over  a  match  stick  and  sure  a  fly 
kicked  him." 

Oh,  he  was  full  of  the  devil.  On  leaving  that 
hospital  I  got  a  month's  leave  to  recuperate,  and 
spent  it  at  home.  I  was  recalled  for  service  at 
the  end  of  the  month  to  my  delight,  as  I  wanted 
to  see  some  more  fighting.  I  was  attached  to  the 
2nd  Battalion  of  the  10th  Liverpool  Scottish, 
and  we  were  detailed  to  go  to  France. 


'THE  FIRST  OF  THE  TANKS" 

BY  SERGT.  M.  L.  NICHOLSON 

RUSHED  out  of  the  pleasant  atmosphere  of 
an  English  hospital  into  France,  thence  to 
Arras,  to  help  extend  the  British  front,  was  my 
next  little  bit  of  adventure.  Arras  at  that  time 
was  a  sort  of  resting  place,  as  the  fighting  there 
was  not  half  so  severe  as  at  Gallipoli,  and  besides 
it  was  held  on  a  fifty-fifty  basis,  the  Germans 
holding  one-half  the  village  and  the  British  the 
other. 

Vimy  Ridge,  nearby,  and  Arras  were  well 
sown  with  mines,  and  this  being  known  to  the 
enemy,  we  were  not  molested  by  surprise  at- 
tacks as  we  otherwise  would  have  been.  Close 
upon  Arras  stood  Devil's  Wood,  a  point  of 
vantage  to  whichever  side  could  hold  it.  It 
was  a  much  sought  after  place  and  had  recently 
been  wrested  from  the  British.  It  was  up  to 
the  newcomers,  mostly  from  the  1st  King's 
Liverpool  Regiment,  to  regain  it.  Needless  to 
say  we  did  this  thoroughly  and  kept  on  ad- 
vancing to  Fleurs. 

At  this  stage  of  the  game  a  great  surprise 

139 


I40  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

was  sprung  on  us.  We  were  keyed  up  to  the 
highest  point,  ready  for  battle,  and  it  was  to 
be  our  first  attack  on  Flours,  when  of  a  sudden 
we  were  drenched  by  a  deluge  of  tear  shells. 
A  tear  shell  is  one  of  the  meanest  of  all  shells 
as  it  gives  out  a  poison  that  causes  the  tear 
ducts  to  turn  almost  inside  out  and  the  tears, 
which  continually  flow,  change  to  a  sickly  look- 
ing green  fluid.  On  top  of  that,  we  were  also 
treated  to  a  breakfast  of  liquid  gas  and,  believe 
me,  I  got  my  fill  on  that  memorable  morning. 

To  make  sure  that  I  was  "out"  for  good,  a 
stray  piece  of  shrapnel  found  its  way  through 
my  helmet  and  opened  a  three-inch  scalp  wound 
which  I  had  received,  as  a  souvenir,  from  a 
Turk  at  the  Dardanelles.  The  photograph 
shows  how  my  helmet  suffered. 

The  gas  attack  in  the  morning  temporarily 
blinded  my  right  eye.  However,  all  these  minor 
affairs  did  not  occur  until  after  I  had  witnessed 
the  greatest  surprise  of  the  war. 

It  was  at  the  "Zero  Hour,"  and  we  were  ner- 
vously awaiting  the  word  to  go  over,  when  five 
huge,  lumbering  monsters  crept  forward  from 
our  lines.  Could  this  be  a  bad  dream,  or  were 
we  seeing  things.  But  look!  They  are  spitting 
fire!  They  don't  stop!  Down  into  a  trench  and 
over  they  go.     Barbed   wire  is  like  a  spider's 


SERGT.  NICHOLSON.  SHOWING  HIS   WOUNDED  SKULL 
AND   HELMET   WORN   WHEN   WOUND   WAS    RECEIVED 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  141 

web  to  them!  God!  how  they  travel,  these  ani- 
mated blocks  of  steel.  They  look  like  cater- 
pillars or  frogs.  They  look  like  every  living 
thing  that  crawls,  and  the  enemy's  shells  fall 
from  them  like  water  from  a  duck's  back.  On- 
ward they  go  and  we  are  told  to  follow  them. 
The  rest  is  history.  They  were  the  first  five 
''tanks"  used  in  the  war  and,  at  once,  were  recog- 
nized as  the  most  terrible  of  all  engines  of  de- 
struction. Their  presence  revived  our  fellows 
as  though  an  electric  current  had  passed  through 
them.  These  first  "tanks"  were  a  symbol  of  our 
strength  and  determination  to  win  and  when 
we  saw  them  sweep  forward  majestically,  liter- 
ally eating  up  the  Hun  devils,  my  heart  was 
glad,  and  the  pain  of  my  wounds  vanished.  The 
boys  now  had  a  fighting  chance  against  the 
wicked  machinations  of  the  foe.  We  had  gone 
the  enemy  one  better,  at  his  own  game  of  inven- 
tions, and  Victory  was  only  a  question  of  build- 
ing more  ''tanks"  behind  which  the  infantry 
could  find  shelter  in  the  attack. 


THE  SUNSHINE  OF  THE  TRENCHES 

BY  SGT.  E.  D.  G.  AYLEN,  NO.  475337,  P.P.C.L.I. 
("PRINCESS  PATS")    C.E.F. 

I  HAD  just  returned  from  a  long  summer's 
work  on  a  surveying  party,  on  the  Canadian 
Pacific  Railway,  and  everybody  in  my  home 
town,  Montreal  (that  is,  the  men),  were  all 
dressed  in  uniform,  and  the  women  seemed  to 
be  looking  at  me,  and  at  first  I  felt  uncom- 
fortable and  wondered  why  they  stared  at  me. 
Then  I  realized  that  I  had  just  returned  from 
the  brush  of  the  great  Canadian  northwest.  I 
knew,  of  course,  that  there  was  a  war  on,  and 
the  boys  were  going  over,  but  for  the  moment, 
on  my  arrival  in  town,  forgot. 

The  boy  friends  whom  1  chummed  with  were 
overseas,  and  my  blood  began  to  boil.  I  was 
then  nineteen  years  of  age,  and  was  quite  eligible 
for  service.  After  a  few  days  at  home,  I  an- 
nounced, to  my  mother  and  father,  that  I  was 
going  overseas.  Both  objected  and  said  that  I 
should  take  out  a  commission.  That  did  not 
suit  me,  and  I  thought  of  the  quickest  way  to 

get  over. 

142 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  143 

On  my  way  to  *'McGill"  one  morning  T 
stopped  to  talk  to  two  boys  in  uniform.  1  asked 
them  how  they  liked  the  army  and  what  unit 
they  belonged  to.    One  said  : 

"Army  life  is  great.  We  are  'University'  boys 
to  reinforce  the  famous  'Princess  Pats,'  and  T 
believe  it  is  the  quickest  way  over."  That  was 
just  what  I  wanted,  and  I  asked  the  boys  to  go 
with  me  to  the  recruiting  office,  which  they 
did. 

Corporal  Coate  was  there  to  greet  us,  and  it 
was  not  long  before  I  was  signed  up.  After 
all  sorts  of  questions  I  was  given  a  small  slip 
of  paper  with  my  number  on  it  (No.  475337) 
and  a  hat  badge  with  "Universities  Overseas 
Company,"  and  on  my  shoulders  were  letters 
that  read  P.P.C.L.I.  ("Princess  Patricia's 
Canadian  Light  Infantry").  I  had  heard  all 
about  the  famous  "Pats"  and  was  of  course  glad 
that  I  was  to  be  one  of  them. 

It  was  September  28,  1915,  that  I  was  sworn 
in  as  a  soldier  and  I  felt  fine.  We  trained  ia 
Canada,  at  McGill  University,  for  t\vo  months 
and  had  it  not  been  for  the  war  I  would  have 
been  well  on  my  way  as  a  student  of  that  uni- 
versity. We  had  guard  work  to  do,  physical 
training  and  route  marching;  then  word  was 
passed  around  that  v/e  were  to  go  overseas  and 


144  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

we  were  all  delighted,  as  none  of  us  wanted  to 
be  "Home  Guards." 

On  November  the  15th,  we  left  Montreal  by 
train,  amid  the  cheering  crowds  of  our  friends, 
sweethearts  and  mothers.  Two  days  after  we 
arrived  at  Halifax,  where  we  embarked  at  5 
P.M.  on  the  S.S.  Lapland.  The  people  in  Hali- 
fax were  there  to  mail  letters  or  postal  cards 
for  us,  which  we  threw  from  the  steamer. 

At  7  P.M.  we  set  out  on  our  long  voyage, 
and,  as  the  boat  steamed  out,  the  band  on  the 
deck  played  "When  the  Roll  is  Called  Up  Yon- 
der I'll  be  There,"  but  the  funny  part  was,  that 
every  member  of  the  band  was  about  sixty  years 
old,  and  we  knew  he  "wouldn't  be  there." 

We  had  eight  good  days  going  over  and  all 
enjoyed  it,  except  a  few  who  treated  the  fish  in 
the  ocean. 

The  latter  part  of  November  we  arrived  in 
England  at  Plymouth,  and,  in  the  rain,  em- 
barked on  a  train  to  our  training  camp  at  St. 
Martin's  Plain  near  Shorncliflfe.  As  you  know, 
we  trained  there,  but  that  will  not  interest  you  as 
much  as  our  time  in  France,  so  I  will  skip  that 
to  the  day  we  sailed  for  France. 

At  4  A.M.  we  all  fell  in  and  the  roll  call 
was  taken.  We  marched  to  the  train,  after  hav- 
ing our  pay  book  made  up  to  date.    We  never 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  145 

forgot  the  pay  book  or  the  dinner  call.  A  thing 
that  all  the  boys  noticed  was  that  we  were  to 
cross  the  channel  from  Southampton  on  the 
S.S.  Duke  of  Connaught,  a  fitting  place  for 
"Princess  Pats."  Other  boys  said  that  was  luck. 
It  was  for  some  of  us.  We  arrived  at  Havre, 
France,  and  in  the  rain  marched  seven  miles  to 
a  camp  called  the  Central  Training  Camp, 
where  we  spent  a  few  days  receiving  instructions 
in  modern  warfare. 

After  the  few  days  in  camp  we  marched  seven 
miles  back  again  to  Havre,  and  proceeded  by 
train  by  Poperinghe  in  those  beautiful  Pullman 
cars,  marked  40  men — 8  horses. 

We  arrived  at  Poperinghe  at  5  P.M.,  after 
spending  all  night,  and  part  of  the  next  day,  in 
the  cars.  As  we  came  nearer  to  our  station  we 
could  hear  the  shells  bursting  and  the  booming 
of  the  guns.  One  could  see  nothing  but  heads 
stuck  out  of  the  car  windows  just  as  far  as  cran- 
ing necks  could  stretch. 

Arriving  at  Poperinghe  we  met  a  lieutenant 
who  asked  the  sergeant : 

"Are  you  for  the  'Pats'?"  the  sergeant  reply- 
ing, "Yes,  sir."  In  a  very  English  way  the  lieu- 
tenant said: 

"Oh,  very  well,  follow  me.  I  know  where  the 
'Pats'  are,  as  I  was  sent  for  you," 


146  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

Well,  we  followed  him.  He  took  us  four 
miles  the  wrong  way  and  back  again — then  we 
had  an  extra  two  miles  to  the  "Pats"  quarters. 
He  knew  where  the  "Pats"  were  all  right,  all 
right. 

Now  we  are  with  the  regiment  and  I  was  put 
in  No.  3  company  under  Major  Charlie  Stewart, 
who  was  one  good  fellow.  The  regiment  was 
out  for  rest,  but  we  worked  every  night  going 
up  the  line  to  do  work  in  the  trenches,  and  help 
the  engineers. 

Now  to  tell  of  one  or  two  litle  experiences  in 
the  front  line,  say  about  the  time  of  the  "Third 
Battle  of  Ypres."  The  regiment  held  the  line 
at  Hooge  and  we  were  all  University  men,  as 
the  old  regiment  was  practically  all  wiped  out, 
except  a  handful.  Our  major  was  well  liked, 
and  a  word  from  him  was  well  obeyed. 

A  few  days  before  the  big  show  I  was  sent 
out  on  a  scouting  party  of  twelve,  with  Lieu- 
tenant Fife  in  charge.  We  succeeded  in  getting 
over  to  the  German  wire,  and  I  don't  know 
whether  the  Germans  got  wise  to  our  coming, 
through  the  sneezing  of  one  of  the  party,  or 
whether  the  clipping  of  the  wire  was  heard. 
But  we  were  greeted  with,  first  a  rifle  shot  from 
a  sniper,  tSen  a  bomb;  then  a  dozen,  but  only 
two  of  the  1  lys  were  killed.    We  moved  further 


I-I 
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u 

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o 

a! 
o 

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2<5 
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u 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  147 

up  the  line  and  a  little  closer  to  "Fritzie's''  line. 
There  we  remained  quiet  for  a  few  seconds.  I, 
being  near  Lieutenant  Fife,  was  asked  by  him  to 
follow,  which  I  did.  He  went  up  to  a  part  of 
the  Hun's  line  that  was  built  of  old  sand  bags, 
where  we  could  look  right  up  the  German  line, 
as  the  star-shell  burst  and  lit  up  the  place. 

As  everything  was  quiet,  the  boys  were 
anxious  to  start  something,  so  a  few  bombs  were 
hurled  in,  but  in  return  we  had  the  same  amount, 
and  had  to  return  to  our  own  lines  minus  two 
of  the  boys. 

It  was  on  a  working  party  that  some  fun  oc- 
curred, as  it  always  does  in  the  trenches.  We 
were  moving  from  the  road,  to  proceed  up  the 
"China  wall,"  in  the  Ypres  salient,  which  led 
to  the  trenches,  running  through  the  shattered 
village  of  Hooge,  when  the  sergeant-major  said 
to  me: 

"Aylen,  special  duty,  step  out." 

I  thought,  "I  wonder  what  is  coming  now." 

After  he  had  the  number  of  men  he  wanted, 
and  all  the  other  boys  were  up  the  line,  he  called 
me  and  pointing  to  twelve  large  thermos  soup 
tanks,  said: 

"See  those,  Aylen?" 

I  said,  "Yes,  sir." 

"Well,"  he  said,  "take  them  up  the  line." 


148  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

I  looked  at  him  and  then  at  the  tanks  and  said  : 
"Shall  I  take  them  all  up  at  once,  or  one  at 
a  time?" 

He  gave  me  one  look  and  said,  "Don't  get 
funny,  this  is  a  soft  job  for  you." 

I  said,  "But  I  can't  carry  those  up." 
He  said,  "You  must." 

Now  the  soup  tanks  were  about  four  feet  high 
and  about  a  foot  in  diameter. 

I  said  again,  "Sir,  I  can't  carry  that  up." 
He,  a  little  angry,  said,  "You  must." 
I  said,  "I  can't  carry  it — it  is  bigger  than  I 
am." 
Then  he  said,  "Well,  a  man  is  to  help  you." 
So  he  sent  a  man,  whose  name  was  Cleary,  an 
Irishman,  about  six  feet  two  inches  tall,  and  as 
I  was  only  five  feet  five  inches,  it  was  going  to 
be  rather  awkward  for  us  both,  as  you  have  to 
put  a  long  pole  through  the  loops  on  each  side 
of  the  tank,  and  put  the  pole  on  your  shoulders. 
The  tank  hangs  in  the  center.    Cleary  being 
taller  than  I,  and  the  trench  mats  very  slippery 

we  had  "one of  a  time."    I  was  getting 

the  worst  of  it.  We  slipped  and  stumbled  and 
spoke  about  a  hundred  different  kinds  of  "swear 
words."  Now  the  "China  wall"  ends  about  half 
way  up,  and  we  then  stepped  down  into  the 
trench.    Just  s^bout  twenty  feet  away  from  the 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  149 

end  of  the  "China  wall"  there  was  a  large  shell- 
hole  and  our  trench  mats,  which  are  made  of 
wood,  went  across  one  side  of  the  shell-hole. 
When  the  shell-hole  is  full  of  muddy  water  the 
trench  mats  float.  This  night  Cleary  and  I  hap- 
pened to  pass  it  when  it  was  full.  It  was  very 
dark  and  I  did  not  notice  that  the  mat  was  loose, 
as  I  was  leading,  so  upon  putting  my  foot  on  the 
mat,  down  it  went.  The  hole  was  about  eight 
feet  deep,  and  I  felt  it  going  from  under  me  and 
pulled  on  the  pole.  Soup  tank,  pole,  and  Cleary 
and  all  followed  me  into  that  shell-hole.  When 
we  came  up  covered  with  that  lovely,  slimy  mud, 
you  couldn't  tell  which  was  the  soup  tank.  Then 
I  remembered  what  the  sergeant-major  had 
said,  "This  is  a  soft  job  for  you," — and,  believe 
me,  it  was. 

There  is  one  thing  I  would  like  to  say 
and  that  is  the  boys  of  the  Princess  Pats  had 
wonderful  courage,  and  always  a  good  word  for 
each  other.  I  can  picture  plainly  our  trip  over 
the  top  at  Hooge,  when  I  went  over  with  the 
second  wave.  I  could  see  the  boys  on  our  left 
going  through  a  swamp  up  to  their  waists  in 
filth;  ploughing  through,  their  rifles  up  over 
their  heads,  so  they  would  not  get  blocked  with 
dirt,  and  when  a  man  met  a  bullet  with  "his 
number,"  he  would  fall  backward  or  forward 


150  ALLIED  OfKRSKAS  STORIES 

and  disappear  under  this  water  and  mud;  just 
like  quicksand. 

It  was  after  a  terrific  bombardment  of  our 
lines.  I  was  detailed  to  fill  sand  bags  in  a  shell- 
hole  beside  a  communication  trench,  just  back 
of  the  front  lines.  I  was  with  five  other  chums, 
when  a  shell  dropped  on  the  far  corner  of  the 
shell-hole,  which  I  was  facing,  and  the  shrapnel 
penetrated  my  left  shoulder,  mouth,  right  eye 
and  a  small  piece  in  my  left  leg.  My  chum, 
Nelson,  was  badly  wounded  in  the  back,  and 
I  believe  the  other  four  boys  were  buried.  I 
never  heard  if  they  got  them  out,  as  I  was  un- 
conscious, but  when  I  was  struck  I  can  remem- 
ber, first  seeing  a  green  light,  felt  a  burning  in 
my  eye,  and  a  blow  on  my  shoulder  as  if  struck 
with  a  sledge-hammer.  I  felt  myself  slide  down 
in  the  mud  and  I  knew  nothing  until  I  awoke 
in  the  major's  dugout.  I  was  told  what  had  hap- 
pened to  the  other  boys. 

I  was  then  taken  to  the  dressing  station  and 
in  two  days  arrived  at  No.  3  Canadian  General 
Hospital  at  Boulogne. 

I  was  blind  in  both  eyes  for  a  month,  had  two 
operations  in  France,  and  was  then  sent  to  Eng- 
land to  the  4th  London  General  Hospital,  Den- 
mark Hill.  After  spending  a  few  months  there 
I  was  sent  to  the  C.C.A.C.  (Canadian  Casualty 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  151 

Assembly  Centre),  better  known  as  "Charlie 
Chaplin's."  This  was  at  Folkestone.  After 
having  two  "boards"  they  found  me  unfit  for 
further  service  in  England  or  France,  so  I  was 
billed  for  Canada. 

Arriving  in  Canada  on  the  S.S.  Empress  of 
Britain,  at  Quebec,  I  was  sent  to  the  convales- 
cent home  (Belmont  Park)  at  Montreal,  and 
after  treatment  was  honorably  discharged  as 
physically  unfit. 

I  trained  in  the  McGill  O.  T.  C.  and  later 
came  to  New  York  with  the  "British  Canadian 
Recruiting  Mission,"  where  I  lectured,  and  did 
recruiting  work,  through  New  York  City. 
Since  leaving  the  mission  I  have  traveled  to  the 
West  Indies  and  through  the  eastern  part  of  the 
United  States.  Many  of  my  experiences  I  have 
omitted  on  account  of  space,  but  I  am  proud 
to  have  belonged  to  a  famous  regiment,  "The 
Princess  Pats." 


MY  EXPERIENCES  IN  FRANCE  WITH 
THE  10th  CANADIAN  INFANTRY 

BY  SGT.  HARRY  HALL,  NO.  19805 

WHEN  Great  Britain  declared  war  on 
Germany,  I  considered  it  my  duty  as  a 
member  of  the  Canadian  Militia  to  volunteer 
my  services  for  the  Front. 

The  106th  Winnipeg  Light  Infantry  to  which 
I  belonged,  was  the  first  infantry  regiment  to 
leave  Western  Canada  to  join  the  mobilization 
camp  at  Valcartier,  Quebec. 

Under  the  new  scheme  of  organization,  every 
regiment  lost  its  identity  and  we  were  merged 
into  the  10th  Battalion,  Second  Infantry  Bri- 
gade. 

Early  in  October  we  left  Canada  for  England, 
arriving  at  Plymouth  and  were  then  taken  by 
train  to  Salisbury  Plains,  which  is  noted  for 
mud  and  rain. 

After  undergoing  training  in  the  winter,  we 
embarked  at  Avonmouth,  Bristol,  and  sailed  for 
France  in  a  cattle  boat,  landing  at  St.  Naize 
in  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  four  days  later. 

Then  we  had  two  days  traveling  in  a  box  car 

15a 


SERGT.  HARRY  HALL 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  153 

Up  to  the  Trout,  and  after  a  short  rest  we  went 
to  Ploegstreet  Woods  and  went  under  a  system 
of  training  with  the  Dublin  Fusileers. 

The  method  of  training  we  went  through  was 
excellent  in  every  way,  each  one  of  us  being 
posted  with  one  of  the  Dublins  and  to  do  what 
they  did. 

When  we  reached  the  trenches,  I  was  posted 
with  "Spud  Murphy"  who  was  then  on  sentry 
go.  Spud  was  a  hero  of  "Mons,"  having  had 
safely  survived  up  to  the  present  and  so  we  had 
quite  a  lot  to  talk  about. 

Ploegstreet  being  a  quiet  "front,"  there  was 
nothing  very  exciting,  so  we  were  pleased  when 
we  were  shifted  to  the  village  of  Fleurbaix  to 
relieve  an  English  division  and  to  take  trenches 
over  on  our  own. 

We  were  placed  on  the  line  near  the  village  of 
La  Boutillerie,  where  the  trenches  cut  through 
the  walls  of  a  convent. 

The  Germans  were  about  150  yards  away  and 
seemed  to  have  well-constructed  trenches. 

During  the  first  night  in,  one  of  the  Germans 
shouted  over  and  asked  what  part  of  Canada  we 
were  from.  How  they  learned  that  the  Cana- 
dians were  in  front  of  them  I  have  no  idea,  but 
as  they  had  plenty  of  spies  in  our  rear,  they  must 
have  received  the  information  from  them. 


154  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

The  Germans  were  in  happy  spirits  that  night, 
as  they  were  singing  and  playing  instruments 
almost  until  dawn;  one  of  them  had  a  fine  bari- 
tone voice  and  sang  several  songs  in  English,  in- 
cluding "Rocked  in  the  Cradle  of  the  Deep." 
I  think  they  were  Saxons,  as  it  was  never  cus- 
tomary for  the  Prussians  or  Bavarians  to  act  in 
that  manner. 

Although  the  trenches  were  wet  and  muddy, 
things  were  not  too  bad,  as  we  were  allowed  to 
build  fires  so  we  could  warm  our  machonichit 
rations  and  also  make  tea. 

There  was  hardly  any  artillery  fire,  but  the 
German  snipers  were  very  clever  in  that  region 
and  it  meant  death  to  show  a  head.  I  had  one 
periscope  shot  out  of  my  hands  which  will  show 
what  their  snipers  can  do. 

After  three  days  in,  we  were  taken  out  for  a 
rest  and  billeted  in  a  school  house  in  Fleurbaix. 

The  next  time  we  went  to  the  front  line,  my 
platoon  was  ordered  to  man  a  redoubt  behind 
the  front  trench.  The  idea  of  a  redoubt  is  in 
case  the  enemy  breaks  through  the  front  line  the 
men  manning  it  can  pour  enfilade  fire  into  the 
enemy  while  they  are  passing  in  their  advance 
to  the  second  line  of  trenches. 

This  particular  redoubt  was  a  circular  sand- 
bagged construction  large  enough  to  allow  sixty 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  i55 

men  to  fire  through  the  loopholes,  and  had  two 
lines  of  entanglements  round  it  with  one  narrow 
path  through  them  to  enable  us  to  get  in  or  out. 
This  pathway  could  easily  be  blocked  by  a  mass 
of  wire  called  a  "Chevaux  de  Prize,"  which  was 
kept  in  the  redoubt,  and  which  could  be  placed 
in  position  when  we  had  all  entered. 

Food  which  would  last  a  platoon  for  ten  days 
and  a  barrel  of  water  was  always  kept  in  stock 
and  was  only  allowed  to  be  used  in  case  the  gar- 
rison was  besieged.  Things  being  quiet  at  this 
time,  we  had  permission  to  use  a  cottage,  which 
was  only  a  few  yards  away,  to  sleep  in  at  nights. 

On  the  second  day  we  remained  in  the  cottage 
for  part  of  the  time,  but  as  we  had  lit  a  fire  to 
cook  the  dinner  on,  the  Germans  must  have  seen 
smoke  coming  out  of  the  chimney,  and  soon  got 
our  range  with  one  of  their  77MM.  field  guns. 
The  second  shell  hit  the  roof  of  the  cottage, 
bursting,  the  shrapnel  bullets  were  scattered  in 
the  next  room  to  where  I  was. 

The  platoon  lieutenant  was  in  the  room  when 
the  shell  burst,  and  was  talking  to  a  sergeant 
and  a  corporal;  the  corporal  was  hit  in  thirty- 
one  places  down  his  left  side,  and  was  in  a  ter- 
rible mess.  The  lieutenant  was  wounded  in  the 
arm  and  the  sergeant  in  the  leg.  The  rest  of  us 
picking  them  up,  rushed  to  the  redoubt,  another 


156  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

shell  hitting  the  cottage  just  after  we  left.  This 
taught  us  a  lesson,  and  for  the  next  few  days  we 
stayed  under  cover. 

We  were  moved  to  the  Ypres  front  in  April 
to  relieve  a  French  division,  marching  twenty- 
two  miles  from  Estaires  to  Abeele  in  one  day, 
with  full  marching  order,  including  150  rounds 
of  ammunition.  The  battalion  rested  at  Abeele 
for  a  few  days  and  then  we  marched  through 
Poperinghe  and  the  town  of  Ypres  up  to  the 
front  line. 

At  last  we  were  in  the  dreaded  Ypres  salient, 
the  worst  sector  of  the  front,  and  on  which  the 
Germans  had  sacrificed  thousands  of  men  in  an 
effort  to  gain  Ypres  and  the  roads  to  the  Chan- 
nel ports.  As  the  French  came  down  one  side 
of  the  road,  we  went  up  the  other  into  the  front 
line,  at  the  part  we  w^ere  on,  the  trenches  cut 
across  the  Polccapelle  Paschendale  Road,  where 
the  British  Seventh  Division  cut  the  Prussian 
Guards  to  pieces  the  previous  October. 

The  next  mornino:  we  could  see  hundreds  of 
dead  Germans  lying  beyond  our  entanglements 
who  had  been  dead  five  months,  and  as  there  was 
a  light  mist  which  would  easily  hide  us,  the  Ger- 
man trenches  being  800  yards  away,  a  few  of  us 
crawled  through  the  wire  and  went  to  have  a 
look  at  them. 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  157 

By  their  epaulettes,  we  could  see  that  they 
were  the  235th  Prussian  Regiment,  and  they 
must  have  had  a  terrible  list  of  casualties  by  the 
number  who  were  dead.  Any  German  shell 
which  dropped  short  fell  among  them  and  many 
had  heads  and  legs  missing;  the  stench  was  so 
bad  that  two  of  our  men  vomited,  and  it  was  a 
sight  that  no  doctor  would  recommend  for  any- 
one suffering  from  shattered  nerves. 

After  six  days  up  there  in  the  badly  con- 
structed trenches  and  under  continual  bombard- 
ment, without  a  hot  drink  all  the  time,  working 
like  slaves  every  night,  filling  sandbags  and 
strengthening  the  parapets,  our  appetites  spoiled 
by  the  sights  and  stench  of  the  dead  '^Fritzies," 
we  were  at  last  relieved  by  our  5th  Battalion, 
and  marched  into  Ypres  to  the  billets,  which 
were  in  a  large  mill  alongside  the  Yser  Canal. 

Ypres  at  this  time  was  full  of  the  civilian 
population  and  Estaminets.  Restaurants  and 
the  market-place  were  open,  so  we  had  a  splen- 
did opportunity  to  change  our  diet  from  the 
everlasting  bully  and  biscuits. 

Two  days  after  we  entered  Ypres  the  Ger- 
mans opened  up  their  great  offensive  on  the  22d 
of  April,  where  they  used  their  poisonous  gases 
for  the  first  time.  They  also  commenced  to 
shell  the  town  with  every  sized  gun  they  had. 


158  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

horn  18  pounders  to  their  14-inch  Austrian 
Skoda  howitzers,  the  largest  caliber  gun  used  on 
the  western  front. 

Scores  of  civilians  were  killed  as  they  rushed 
out  of  the  town,  and  it  was  pitiful  to  see  the  little 
children  lying  dead  in  the  streets. 

The  Germans  broke  through  the  Algerians 
on  our  left  flank  under  cover  of  their  poisonous 
gases,  which  killed  thousands  of  Algerians 
and  our  own  men  in  the  front  line  trenches. 

Our  battalion  and  the  16th  Canadian  Scottish 
were  the  only  reserves  in  the  whole  salient,  and 
as  the  Germans  had  broken  through,  things 
were  looking  very  black  for  us. 

We  were  instantly  summoned  to  "fall  in"  and 
soon  we  were  on  our  way  to  fill  the  gap.  We 
were  two  thousand  men  to  stop  the  German 
divisions  in  their  countless  thousands. 

An  ordinary  general  would  have  posted  us  in 
a  reserve  line  of  trenches  until  the  Germans  ad- 
vanced the  next  morning,  but  not  so  General 
Alderson,  our  divisional  commander,  an  Eng- 
lish general,  who  proved  himself  one  of  the 
geniuses  of  the  war.  He  tried  strategy,  which 
was  one  of  the  biggest  bluffs  of  the  war,  and 
which  utterly  surprised  the  Germans. 

Instead  of  waiting  for  the  Germans  to  swamp 
us  the  next  morning  with  their  greater  superi- 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  159 

ority  of  twenty  to  one  man,  he  ordered  us  to 
make  a  night  attack  on  the  Pilkem  Woods, 
where  the  Germans  were  massing  for  their  at- 
tack. 

The  attack  was  made  in  lines  of  double  com- 
panies, 500  men  in  each  of  the  four  lines,  A  and 
B  Company  of  our  battalion  being  in  the  front 
line  and  supported  by  C  and  D  Company,  and 
then  the  16th  Battalion  behind  them. 

Unsupported  by  artillery,  we  advanced 
shortly  after  midnight,  getting  to  within  thirty 
yards  of  the  Germans  before  being  discov- 
ered. 

The  Germans  at  once  opened  up  "rapid  fire" 
with  every  machine  gun  and  rifle  they  had,  the 
night  air  being  rent  with  the  cracks  of  hundreds 
of  rifles  and  machine  guns. 

How  any  man  could  pass  through  that  hail 
of  lead  has  always  been  a  mystery  to  me,  but  the 
remnants  of  us,  after  a  desperate  struggle  in  the 
dim  light,  took  possession  of  the  wood  at  the 
point  of  the  bayonet. 

The  German  garrison  was  completely  demor- 
alized, and  our  impetuous  advance  did  not  cease 
until  we  reached  the  far  side  of  the  wood,  and 
there  we  entrenched. 

An  hour  later,  a  most  formidable  concentra- 
tion of  artillery  sweeping  the  wood^  as  a  tropical 


i6o  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

Storm  sweeps  the  forest,  made  it  impossible  for 
us  to  hold  the  position. 

Instead  of  retiring,  we  tried  our  old  tactics  of 
advancing,  and  attacked  the  Germans  once  more, 
who  were  digging  themselves  in  about  200  yards 
in  front. 

We  soon  gained  an  objective  and  remained 
there  until  the  next  day.  Our  ranks  by  this 
time  were  sadly  depleted.  Our  colonel  was 
killed  and  only  two  officers  still  remained  in  the 
fight. 

We  were  still  losing  men,  owing  to  the  Ger- 
man artillery  fire,  and  our  ranks  being  now  so 
thin,  it  was  inadvisable  for  us  to  remain  out  in 
that  exposed  position. 

Fifteen  hundred  men  had  already  fallen,  and 
what  could  the  remaining  500  of  us  do  against 
the  German  hordes? 

Sick  as  we  were  with  the  gas  fumes  and  the 
terrific  strain  we  had  undergone,  we  retreated 
back  through  the  wood  to  an  old  line  of  trenches 
and  there  waited  for  reinforcements. 

Our  object  had  been  achieved,  the  Germans 
were  demoralized,  and  puzzled  as  to  how  many 
men  we  had. 

Their  proposed  attack  was  cancelled  for  a 
few  hours  to  enable  them  to  re-form  and  or- 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  i6i 

ganize,  and  by  the  next  hour  or  two  our  rein- 
forcements would  have  arrived. 

Our  first  brigade  appeared  on  the  scene  and 
the  line  was  strengthened,  and  then  the  Buffs, 
the  famous  English  regiment,  came  up  at  the 
double  after  having  marched  miles  from  an- 
other part  of  the  line. 

The  bluff  that  we  pulled  off  was  therefore  en- 
tirely successful,  and  the  Germans  thought  that 
we  had  about  20,000  men  attacking  them. 

It  never  struck  their  imaginative,  cold- 
blooded and  calculating  minds  that  2,000  men 
would  have  the  audacity  to  attack  whole  Ger- 
man divisions  without  artillery  support. 

They  certainly  have  had  many  lessons  show- 
ing the  difference  between  spirit  and  material. 

The  charge  we  made  stands  out  as  one  of  the 
finest  achievements  of  the  war,  and  only  equaled, 
in  the  estimation  of  British  experts,  by  the  won- 
derful charge  of  the  Worcestershire  Regiment, 
who  with  only  500  men  charged  a  division  of 
Prussian  Guards  at  Gheluvelt  in  October,  1917; 
also  the  famous  Black  Watch  and  the  Scots 
Greys  in  their  spectacular  stirrup  at  St.  Quentin. 

It  will  always  be  a  source  of  pleasure  to  me 
to  know  that  I  was  in  the  front  line  of  the  first 
attack  made  by  soldiers  from  the  continent  of 
America  and  was  in  the  Battle  of  Ypres,  which 


1 62  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

made  the  name  of  Canada  ring  through  the 
world. 

Remaining  on  Ypres  front  for  several  days, 
the  remnants  of  the  battalion  were  taken  to  the 
rear  to  await  for  reinforcements.  These,  in  due 
course,  arrived,  and  we  were  then  sent  to  Festu- 
bert,  and  on  May  17th  our  remade  infantry  bri- 
gades advanced  toward  the  firing  line  once 
more. 

On  the  21st  of  May  we  went  "Over  the  Top" 
at  Festubert,  with  the  object  of  capturing  a 
strong  German  redoubt  called  "Bechill." 

My  platoon  was  practically  annihilated  by 
machine  guns  and  none  of  us  succeeded  in  pass- 
ing the  entanglements;  over  fifty  of  the  men  of 
the  platoon,  which  numbered  sixty,  being  killed 
or  wounded  in  less  than  two  minutes. 

The  rest  of  us,  seeing  that  things  were  hope- 
less, retired  to  an  old  communication  trench  and 
made  our  way  to  bomb  our  way  past  the  barri- 
cade which  led  to  the  redoubt. 

As  we  threw  bombs  over  the  barricade,  the 
Germans  retaliated,  and  I  discovered  that  it 
is  impossible  to  indulge  in  the  practice  of  throw- 
ing grenades  for  any  length  of  time  without 
someone  getting  hurt.  At  this  time  a  German 
bomb  fell  in  the  bottom  of  our  trench  and  burst 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  163 

there,  wounding  three  of  us,  myself  getting  a 
piece  of  shell  in  the  foot. 

I  was  in  the  hospital  only  three  weeks,  and 
then  returned  to  the  battalion,  who  were  on  the 
La  Bassee  front. 

On  the  third  day  of  my  second  time  in  the 
trenches  at  Givenchy,  the  Germans  opened  up  a 
bombardment  with  high  explosives,  and  while 
walking  up  a  communication  trench  an  8-inch 
German  shrapnel  burst  in  the  air,  and  one  piece 
of  shell  hit  my  ammunition  pouches,  while  an- 
other passed  through  my  arm^  and  then  hit  my 
side. 

While  in  the  hospital,  gangrene  possomy  set 
in  and  I  was  sent  to  Glasgow,  Scotland,  where  I 
remained  for  many  weeks. 

My  arm  being  partly  paralyzed,  I  was  re- 
turned to  Canada  and  discharged  in  May,  1916. 

Two  weeks  after  I  joined  the  Canadian  Ac- 
tive Militia  (pay  corps),  and  was  promoted  to 
sergeant,  but  never  recovered  the  full  use  of  my 
arm,  and  consequently  was  unable  to  return  to 
France. 


THREE   YEARS   AND   TWO   iMONTHS 

IN   FRANCE 

BY  LA^XE  CORPORAL  EDMUND  HALL,  2ND  SCOT- 
TISH RIFLES,  B.E.F. 

AFTER  being  in  the  army  eleven  years  and 
with  one  year  to  go  to  finish  my  time  as  a 
regular  soldier  of  the  British  Army,  for  which 
period  1  had  signed  on,  I  was  beginning  to  think 
that  I  would  be  unfortunate  enough  to  finish  my 
soldiering  without  seeing  active  service,  but 
after  all  I  was  not  to  be  disappointed  and  I  saw 
more  active  service  than  ever  I  bargained  for. 
At  the  time  Great  Britain  declared  war  on 
Germany  I  was  stationed  with  the  British  garri- 
son at  Malta,  an  island  fortress  in  the  Mediter- 
ranean Sea,  where  in  peace  time  a  garrison  is 
kept  consisting  of  five  regiments  of  infantry  and 
several  batteries  of  artillery.  On  the  4th  of 
August  we  received  orders  to  proceed  from  bar- 
racks to  take  up  positions  in  the  land  entrench- 
ments and  redoubts,  as  an  attack  was  expected 
from  part  of  the  German  fleet,  the  Goeben  and 
Breslau   at   the   time   being   somewhere   in   the 

vicinity. 

164 


LANCE   CORP.  EDMOND   HALL 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  165 

The  attack  which  we  expected  did  not  mate- 
rialize, as  the  German  ships  ran  for  cover  to 
the  Golden  Horn  and  Constantinople,  and  were 
afiforded  shelter  by  the  Turks.  In  this  respect 
they  were  as  fortunate  as  their  sister  ships  who 
had  the  protection  of  the  Kiel  Canal.  We  were 
now  waiting  for  the  territorial  battalions  which 
were  to  relieve  us  so  that  we  could  take  our  place 
on  the  western  front  and  fight  w^ith  the  regulars 
who  were  stemming  the  German  tide  in  Flan- 
ders. On  the  17th  of  September  our  relief  ar- 
rived, and  the  ships  which  brought  them  to 
Malta  took  us  to  England,  and  we  were  camped 
for  a  time  at  Winchester  while  our  division  was 
being  mobilized.  This  division,  the  8th,  was 
made  up  of  regulars  from  foreign  service  and  in- 
cluded regiments  from  Gibraltar,  Egypt,  India, 
and  our  own  from  Malta.  The  average  service 
of  the  men  of  the  Scottish  Rifles  was  seven  years 
and  we  were  in  the  best  of  training,  having  just 
finished  maneuvers.  It  was  this  training,  excel- 
lent shooting  and  individual  initiative  which 
earned  for  us  the  praise  of  the  Germans,  who 
said  that  every  British  regular  was  a  trained 
non-commissioned  officer.  We  landed  in  France 
on  the  Sth  of  November,  1914,  and  entrained  for 
the  railhead  nearest  the  Neuve  Eglise  and  Mas- 
sines  front.     This  front  at  the  time  was  being 


i66  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

taken  over  from  the  French  and  we  relieved  one 
of  their  regiments  in  the  front  line  of  trenches. 
At  this  time  of  the  campaign,  trench  warfare 
was  just  beginning,  as  the  fighting  previously  at 
Mons,  Marne  and  the  Aisne  was  a  retreat  or  an 
advance  and  was  mostly  field  warfare.  The  Ger- 
mans having  failed  in  their  terrific  drive  for  the 
Channel  Ports  during  the  first  battle  of  Ypres, 
where  the  flower  of  the  Prussian  Guard  had 
been  destroyed  by  our  7th  Division,  decided  to 
dig  themselves  in  and  to  wait  for  the  spring  be- 
fore opening  another  offensive  on  a  large  scale. 
Consequently,  when  we  relieved  the  French  the 
trenches  were  little  better  than  ditches,  and  we 
had  not  even  sandbagged  parapets  erected  or 
barbed  wire  entanglements  thrown  out  in  front. 
It  was  the  surprise  of  my  life  when  our  platoon 
officer  informed  us  that  the  particular  part  of 
the  ditch  which  we  were  in  was  a  trench,  and 
was  to  be  our  home  for  the  next  few  days.  A 
local  attack  from  the  Germans  was  expected  at 
any  time,  as  they  were  anxious  to  get  command 
of  the  Messines  Ridge,  ground  which  they  cov- 
eted for  observation  purposes.  The  French  had 
warned  us  to  be  particularly  on  the  lookout  this 
night,  and  advised  us  not  to  post  extra  sentries, 
and  it  was  very  fortunate  that  we  heeded  their 
warning,  because  about  two  hours  after  the  sen- 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  167 

tries  shouted  from  the  listening  posts  that  the 
Germans  were  coming.  The  company  comman- 
der gave  us  instructions  not  to  fire  until  he  blew 
the  whistle,  and  this  he  did  as  soon  as  he  could 
see  the  gray  mass  of  figures  advancing  across  No 
Man's  Land  in  the  weird  light  of  a  misty  moon. 
The  Germans  received  a  very  warm  welcome 
from  our  particular  part  of  the  "Contemptible 
Little  Army,"  and  must  have  also  had  a  rude 
awakening  when  we  opened  up  with  rapid  fire 
with  our  Lee-Enfield  rifles.  They  evidently 
thought  the  French  were  in  front  of  them,  until 
they  heard  our  fire,  but  as  they  heard  the  rapid 
fire  of  the  Lee-Enfields  on  previous  occasions,  it 
didn't  take  them  long  to  know  that  the  hated 
British  were  on  the  spot.  "The  Britishers'  Mad 
Minute,"  was  the  name  the  Germans  gave  our 
rapid  fire  when  they  first  experienced  it  at  Mons, 
because  they  were  astonished  that  infantry  could 
average  thirty  rounds  a  minute  per  man.  This 
speed  could  not  be  equaled  by  any  other  army  at 
the  time,  the  French  being  equipped  with  the 
Lebel  rifle,  which  did  not  hav£  a  clip  loading 
action,  and  the  Germans,  who  relied  more  on 
their  machine  gun  fire  to  break  up  infantry  at- 
tacks, were  amateurs  in  comparison  to  our  army, 
where  rifles  were  concerned. 

The  Germans  were  mowed  down  before  they 


1 68  ALLIED  OTERSEAS  STORIES 

reached  us.  and  although  they  made  two  further 
attacks  during  the  night,  we  had  not  the  oppor- 
tunity to  use  the  bayonet,  the  Germans  being  all 
killed  or  wounded  before  reaching  our  trench 
or  ditch.  The  Germans  gave  up  the  attempt  for 
the  Messines  Ridge  and  during  the  terrible  win- 
ter campaign  of  1914  and  1915  we  did  trench 
duty,  three  days  in  the  front  line  and  then  three 
days  in  the  reserve. 

This  awful  monotonous  life  under  the  worst 
climatic  conditions  and  living  in  a  sea  of  mud 
was  only  brightened  by  one  incident  during  the 
rest  of  the  winter.  The  Germans  hung  up  Chi- 
nese lanterns  on  Christmas  Eve  and  sang  carols, 
and  both  sides  refrained  from  firing.  During 
Christmas  day  some  of  the  bolder  spirits  of  the 
German  regiment  opposite  stood  up  on  the  para- 
pet, and  as  none  of  our  men  would  fire  on  them, 
an  unofficial  armistice  was  therefore  on.  Our 
men  did  likewise,  and  not  a  shot  was  fired,  both 
sides  believing  in  the  old  saying,  "Peace  and 
good  will  to  all  men  on  Christmas  Day."  This 
was  the  only  time  throughout  the  war  that  such 
an  incident  happened,  as  we  received  strict  in- 
structions not  to  fraternize  with  the  enemy  on 
account  of  their  despicable  and  treacherous  acts 
in  bringing  machine  guns  up  under  cover  of 
stretcher  bearers  on  several  occasions  when  ar- 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  169 

mistices  were  allowed  to  bury  the  dead  shortly 
before  Christmas. 

When  spring  arrived,  we  were  on  tiptoe  with 
excitement  for  the  coming  offensive,  as  we  were 
fed  up  with  the  trenches  and  mud  and  wanted  to 
get  the  Germans  in  the  open. 

The  first  offensive  of  the  year  1915  was  made 
by  the  British  at  Neuve  Chapelle  on  March 
10th,  and  several  divisions,  including  our  own, 
were  massed  in  the  vicinity  a  few  days  before- 
hand. Batteries  of  artillery  to  the  number  of 
five  hundred  guns  were  masked  and  hidden  un- 
til they  opened  up  for  the  preliminary  bombard- 
ment. The  Germans  had  no  inkling  of  the  com- 
ing attack,  and  the  surprise  it  caused  was  a  nasty 
knock  to  their  boasted  secret  service  and  civilian 
spies,  who  were  placed  throughout  Flanders 
years  before  the  war,  and  who  posed  as  Belgian 
and  French  farmers.  They  devised  many 
schemes  for  informing  the  enemy  what  was  hap- 
pening, and  on  previous  occasions  they  had  been 
able  to  supply  the  Germans  with  accurate  infor- 
mation by  their  windmill  and  other  tricks.  This 
time  they  were  fooled,  and  when  the  bombard- 
ment commenced  at  6.30  A.  M.  the  Germans  were 
at  breakfast,  according  to  the  statements  which 
the  prisoners  made  when  they  were  captured. 

We  had  taken  our  positions  in  the  front  line 


170  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

trenches  the  night  before  and  had  erected  trench 
climbing  ladders  for  jumping  over  the  parapets. 

At  7  A.  M.  we  went  "Over  the  Top"  in  the 
first  offensive  our  army  made  since  trench  war- 
fare first  began  after  the  battle  of  the  Aisne  the 
previous  October.  At  this  time  I  was  acting  as 
company  stretcher  bearer,  and  therefore  had  to 
follow  the  company  as  they  advanced  across  No 
Man's  Land. 

Although  we  had  a  large  number  of  guns,  we 
were  very  deficient  in  heavy  artillery  and  howit- 
zers, the  majority  being  18  pounder  field  guns 
and  which  proved  a  failure  as  a  means  to  blast 
away  the  barbed  wire  and  parapets  of  the  Ger- 
man trenches  and  redoubts. 

On  part  of  the  line  where  we  attacked,  the 
barbed  wire  was  not  destroyed  and  consequently 
we  were  held  up  and  suffered  terrible  losses 
from  machine  gun  fire.  At  last,  some  of  our 
men  broke  through  the  wire  by  breaching  it 
with  wire  clippers  and  then  jumping  in  the 
trenches  bayoneted  German  after  German,  from 
traverse  to  traverse  until  they  were  all  accounted 
for  in  that  part  of  the  line. 

Our  losses  were  appalling  during  the  few 
minutes  it  took  to  cut  the  wire,  our  casualties  to- 
taling over  750  men  out  of  the  thousand  engaged. 
A  young  subaltern  was  the  only  officer  who  got 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  171 

through  the  engagement,  the  colonel,  major,  ad- 
jutant and  company  commanders  all  being 
killed  while  leading  the  attack. 

Our  officers  had  all  been  in  the  army  for  a 
number  of  years  and  were  excellent  soldiers. 
We  could  ill  afford  to  lose  such  men,  as  there 
were  none  who  could  fill  their  places,  and  we 
noticed  a  remarkable  difference  when  the  re- 
inforcements arrived,  the  new  officers  being  hast- 
ily trained  and  the  ink  stains  not  yet  off  their 
fingers. 

The  remnants  of  the  battalion  reached 
the  German  third  line  of  trenches  and  there 
waited  for  reinforcements.  For  two  days  I  car- 
ried the  stretcher  without  a  rest  until  at  last  I 
collapsed  under  the  strain  and  had  to  rest  for 
a  few  hours.  How  many  men  I  carried  I  do  not 
know,  and  the  last  few  hours  seemed  like  a 
dream,  broken  with  the  cries  of  the  wounded. 

My  clothes  were  saturated  with  the  blood  of 
the  men  I  bandaged  and  carried,  and  when  I 
was  finally  relieved,  I  had  to  get  a  new  suit  from 
the  quartermaster  stores. 

On  the  first  night  of  the  offensive,  the  Ger- 
mans made  a  counter  attack  in  a  vam  endeavor 
to  recapture  the  redoubt,  and  the  line  of  trenches 
called  Port  Arthur.  During  the  attack,  I  was  in 
the  front  line  attending  to  wounded  men  whe 


172  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

needed  attention,  and  so  I  had  a  good  view  of 
the  Germans  as  they  were  advancing. 

They  advanced,  as  was  their  custom,  in  close 
order,  or  mass  formation.  Our  reinforcements, 
who  had  come  up  just  after  dark,  had  brought 
several  machine  guns,  so  we  were  quite  prepared 
to  give  the  Germans  a  fight  to  a  finish.  Our  of- 
ficers, knowing  that  the  Germans  could  not  break 
through  our  wire  under  the  terrific  hail  of  lead 
we  would  send  over,  gave  strict  orders  not  to 
fire  until  the  Germans  were  up  to  the  entangle- 
ments. Thus,  at  that  short  range,  the  slaughter 
would  be  much  greater,  and  fewer  Germans 
would  reach  back  to  their  own  lines  during  their 
consequent  retreat. 

There  was  not  enough  room  on  the  parquet 
or  firing  platform  for  all  our  men,  and  the  un- 
lucky ones  who  were  left  standing  at  the  bottom 
of  the  trench  dragged  some  of  the  men  on  the 
parquets,  so  that  they  could  get  a  few  rounds 
ofif,  and  so  settle  "old  scores"  with  "Fritz."  Un- 
der the  rapid  fire  of  our  machine  guns  and  rifles 
the  Germans  were  mowed  down  almost  to  a 
man,  very  few  of  even  their  swiftest  runners 
making  a  home  run. 

I  was  in  the  trenches  at  Ncuve  Chapelle  for 
a  few  more  days  until  the  remnants  of  our  bat- 
talion were  taken  to  the  rear  to  be  re-formed 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  173 

when  the  drafts  arrived.  After  six  days'  rest  we 
were  again  on  trench  duty,  and  this  continued 
until  May  9th,  when  our  division  was  moved  to 
Fromelles  to  participate  in  the  offensive  on  that 
sector. 

During  the  first  part  of  this  offensive  our  bat- 
talion acted  as  supports  to  the  London  Rifles, 
whose  objective  was  the  German  third  line  of 
trenches.  When  this  objective  was  reached  we 
received  the  order  to  advance  in  open  formation. 
German  machine  guns  opened  up  fire  on  us  as 
we  advanced,  and  men  were  soon  dropping  like 
flies. 

My  chum,  who  was  carrying  the  other  end 
of  the  strecher,  was  riddled  with  machine  gun 
bullets.  It  so  happened  that  he  was  caught  by 
the  group  shots  from  one  gun.  It  was  lucky  for 
me  that  the  German  machine  gunner  was  group- 
ing his  shots,  and  not  using  the  traverse  system, 
or  I  would  have  been  hit  also. 

I  was  then  left  to  carry  the  stretcher  alone, 
and  while  advancing  further  saw  our  new 
colonel  fall  wounded,  so  I  rushed  to  his  assist- 
ance. The  bone  of  his  leg  was  smashed  by  a 
bullet,  and  as  I  went  up  to  him  he  ordered  me 
away,  and  told  me  to  take  cover  or  T  would  be 
killed,  as  the  bullets  by  this  time  were  flying 
around  in  hundreds.     I  walked  a  few  paces  and 


174  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

returned  for  another  attempt  to  bandage  him, 
but  he  again  ordered  me  to  take  cover,  so  I  said 
to  him,  "Well,  if  you  don't  want  help,  there  are 
plenty  around  who  do."  This  officer  was 
Colonel  Vandeleur,  who  was  captured  during 
th?  retreat  of  Mons,  while  in  command  of  the 
Cheshire  Regiment. 

He  escaped  from  the  German  prison  camp, 
owing  to  the  fact  that  he  could  speak  the  Ger- 
man language  like  a  native,  and  when  he 
reached  London  by  way  of  Holland,  he  was 
granted  an  audience  with  the  King,  as  he  was 
the  first  Britisher  to  escape  from  Germany.  Af- 
ter having  a  rest,  he  was  again  sent  to  France, 
and  took  command  of  our  battalion. 

Having  lost  my  chum,  I  had  to  work  single- 
handed,  and  this  meant  carrying  wounded  on  my 
back.  We  remained  at  Fromelles  for  three  days 
and  were  under  bombardment  all  the  time,  the 
Germans  being  heavily  supplied  with  "Heav- 
ies" and  a  plentiful  supply  of  "Jack  Johnsons" 
and  "Coal  Boxes." 

Our  attack  at  Fromelles  was  not  as  successful 
as  we  had  anticipated,  owing  to  insufficient  ar- 
tillery support,  and  we  were  at  a  disadvantage 
during  the  year  191 '^  on  account  of  the  shortage 
in  heavy  artillery.  The  Germans,  who  had  pre- 
pared for  so  many  years  beforehand,  were  plen- 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  175 

lifully  supplied  with  all  kinds  of  artillery  from 
77  M.  to  17-inch  Skoda  howitzers  and  for  every 
shell  we  fired  they  fired  ten. 

Shortly  after  the  Fromelles  affair,  I  was 
wounded  while  in  the  front  line,  and  remained 
in  the  hospital  for  three  months.  When  I  re- 
turned to  the  battalion,  they  were  doing  trench 
duty  at  Fleurbaix,  and  with  only  two  minor  en- 
gagements I  sufifered  the  agonies  of  trench  war- 
fare once  more,  this  time  for  several  months,  in- 
cluding the  winter  of  1915  and  1916. 

On  the  first  of  July,  1916,  an  offensive  on  the 
Somme  was  started  and  our  division  was  now 
in  the  thick  of  it.  This  was  a  change  from  the 
previous  engagements,  as  our  munition  and  ar- 
mament factories  in  Britain  had  been  working  at 
top  pressure  for  months  and  we  had  ample  sup- 
plies of  guns  and  ammunition  and  could  give 
'Tritz"  shell  for  shell. 

I  had  left  the  stretcher  bearers  and  during  the 
Somme  offensive  I  was  fighting  in  the  ranks  and 
went  "Over  the  Top,"  this  time  with  rifle  and 
bayonet.  After  severe  fighting,  we  took  Frie- 
court,  our  first  objective,  and  after  entering  the 
village  the  prisoners  were  collected,  and  I  was 
detailed  to  escort  prisoners  to  the  cages,  and  to 
remain  as  one  of  the  sentries  until  relieved.  One 
of  the  prisoners  who  could  speak  English  asked 


176  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

me  if  the  men  of  our  regiment  were  sailors,  be- 
cause at  this  time  we  wore  the  Scotch  Balmoral 
Blach  hats,  and  he  evidently  mistook  them  for 
sailors'  hats,  as  they  are  not  unlike  the  headgear 
of  the  British  Navy,  and  it  must  have  been  the 
first  time  he  had  seen  them,  as  most  of  the  Scot- 
tish troops  were  the  Glengarrys. 

I  quickly  informed  him  that  we  were  the  fa- 
mous Scottish  Rifles,  the  old  90th  of  Foot  who 
had  made  a  reputation  in  previous  wars,  and 
who  intended  to  keep  up  the  reputation  made  by 
knocking  Hell  out  of  the  Germans  on  every  pos- 
sible occasion.  He  was  different  than  the  rest 
of  the  prisoners,  the  majority  of  them  being  mo- 
rose and  sullen,  so  I  kept  up  a  conversation  with 
him,  and  it  was  interesting  at  the  time  to  listen 
to  a  German  prisoner  who  could  speak  English, 
and  who  wished  to  tell  me  of  the  things  that  had 
happened  to  him.  He  had  been  a  steward  on 
one  of  the  Hamburg-American  Line  boats  ply- 
ing between  Germany  and  New  York,  and  he 
had  learned  to  speak  English  by  talking  to  pas- 
sengers. He  said  that  he  was  glad  to  be  cap- 
tured, and  for  this  information  I  handed  him  a 
few  cigarettes. 

Shortly  after,  I  was  again  sent  back  to  the 
front  line,  and  during  the  next  two  weeks  we 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  i77 

advanced  twenty  miles,  capturing  Combles  and 
other  towns. 

The  battle  of  the  Somme  was  the  biggest  of- 
fensive during  1916.  Considerable  ground  was 
retaken,  and  thousands  of  Germans  captured. 
We  were  sent  to  the  Bethune  front,  which  was 
at  the  time  a  quiet  sector  in  comparison  to  the 
Somme,  and  there  we  did  trench  duty  for  six 
weeks  before  being  returned  once  again  to  the 
Somme. 

On  the  23rd  of  October  we  again  attacked  and 
gained  more  ground.  By  this  time  the  Somme 
battlefield  was  a  land  of  shell-holes  and  mud. 
The  hardships  we  had  to  undergo  were  terrible. 
The  bombardments  never  ceased,  and  sometimes 
it  increased  to  drum  fire.  For  the  next  few 
months  we  remained  on  this  front,  this  being  my 
third  winter  in  the  trenches,  I  w^as  beginning  to 
be  ''fed  up"  with  the  whole  thing. 

I  had  had  one  seven  days'  leave  to  England  at 
the  end  of  1915,  and  in  November,  1916,  I  was 
granted  one  month's  furlough  on  account  of  hav- 
ing completed  my  term  as  a  time  serving  man. 

The  Conscription  Act  coming  into  force  kept 
me  on  for  the  duration  of  the  war,  but  in  con- 
sideration of  my  long  service,  having  completed 
my  thirteenth  year,  as  stipulated  on  my  attesta- 
tion, this  special  leave  was  granted.     What  a 


178  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

relief  it  was  to  know  that  for  the  next  four  weeks 
I  would  not  hear  the  shells  or  stumble  along  in 
the  mud  up  to  my  knees,  and,  sometimes,  up  to 
the  waist. 

How  my  mouth  watered  when  I  realized  that 
I  would  get  a  change  of  diet  from  the  everlast- 
ing bully  beef  and  biscuits,  commonly  known  as 
"hard  tack."  How  pleasant  to  know  that  the 
"cooties"  would  soon  be  ofif  me  and  a  new  change 
of  clothing  on  my  back.  One  can  only  appre- 
ciate good  food  and  clean  clothes  after  months 
of  horror  experienced  by  eating  bully  and  bis- 
cuits and  being  tormented  by  "cooties,"  or,  as 
we  called  them,  "Wee  Scunners." 

During  the  month's  furlough  I  spent  in  Lon- 
don, I  had  the  time  of  my  life,  but  as  all  good 
days  have  to  end  at  some  time  or  other,  I  was 
soon  back  in  the  trenches,  and  to  make  things 
worse,  we  were  on  the  Somme. 

Christmas  day  I  again  spent  in  the  trenches, 
but  this  time  there  was  no  fraternizing,  both 
sides  being  very  bitter  and  for  any  of  us  to  show 
a  head  above  the  parapet  meant  death  from  a 
German  sniper. 

We  could  never  forget  the  Zeppelin  raids,  the 
sinking  of  the  Lusitaniaj  and  the  despicable 
treachery  of  the  enemy  on  every  occasion,  wher- 
ever they  got  a  chance.    The  Germans  proved 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  179 

themselves  worse  than  the  lowest  savages,  and 
Lord  Kitchener  said  that  they  were  worse  than 
the  Dervishes  of  the  Soudan,  the  fanatics  of  the 
desert.  Never  will  a  British  soldier  forget  the 
incident  where  British  soldiers  were  burned 
alive,  by  the  orders  of  Prince  Rupprecht  of  Ba- 
varia, and  the  crucifying  of  the  Canadians  at 
Ypres. 

In  the  spring  of  1917  the  Germans  retreated 
to  a  new  line  of  defense,  and  for  three  weeks  we 
advanced  under  cover  of  the  night,  throwing  out 
patrols,  to  try  and  get  in  touch  with  the  Ger- 
mans. This  was  a  welcome  change,  as  there  was 
no  firing,  and  as  we  were  on  the  move  it  was 
less  monotonous  than  being  in  the  trenches.  The 
Germans  had  destroyed  everything  in  their  re- 
treat, farm  houses  being  blown  up,  orchards  cut 
down,  cross  roads  destroyed,  and  every  trick,  the 
Germans  who  are  past  masters  in  this  kind  of 
thing,  knew  so  well  how  to  do.  The  countryside 
was  laid  waste,  and  I  saw  hundreds  of  dead  men 
who  had  been  left  behind  by  the  Germans,  un- 
buried,  and  left  to  rot;  most  of  them  had  been 
mangled  by  shell-fire  and  it  was  sights  such  as 
these  that  make  men  think  of  the  terrible  folly 
of  war,  and  why  such  things  should  be. 

We  have  one  consolation,  and  that  is,  the  men 
of  the  Allies  who  were  killed  did  not  die  in  vain. 


i8o  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

as  the  objects  for  which  we  entered  the  war  have 
been  achieved  and  the  wrongs  will  be  righted. 

At  last  we  got  in  touch  with  the  Germans  and 
dug  ourselves  in,  and  then  we  had  another  spell 
of  trench  duty,  until  taken  away  from  the 
Somme  and  moved  up  to  Belgium  to  participate 
in  the  Paschendale  olTfensive  in  June,  1917.  Of 
all  the  fronts  I  was  ever  on,  Paschendale  was 
the  worst.  The  front  included  the  Ypres  salient 
where  fighting  had  been  going  on  almost  inces- 
santly from  October,  1914.  Neither  side  made 
much  progress,  and  during  these  three  years  the 
ground  had  changed  hands  many  times  and  was 
mostly  shell-holes.  In  fact,  for  miles  it  was  dif- 
ficult to  find  a  few  square  yards  untouched  by 
shells,  and  T  think  that  more  men  were  killed 
in  the  Ypres  salient  than  any  other  place  of  its 
size  in  the  world.  It  was  impossible  to  build 
trenches  on  this  front,  and  the  system  of  defense 
was  to  fortify  shell-holes  with  sand  bags,  two  or 
three  men  to  a  shell-hole.  I  w^as  in  one  advance 
which  we  made  under  cover  of  the  biggest  bar- 
rage thrown  over  at  that  time,  and  when  our 
objective  was  reached,  we  manned  the  shell- 
holes  until  relieved. 

•  In  September,  1917,  I  was  sent  to  a  bombing 
school,  and  went  through  a  course  which  I 
passed,  and  was  then  qualified  to  act  as  a  bomb- 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  i8i 

ing  instructor  when  I  arrived  back  to  the  bat- 
talion. The  course  lasted  one  month,  and  in  that 
time  I  learned  all  there  was  to  know  about 
bombs,  especially  the  deadly  Mills  bomb,  with 
its  three  and  a  half  to  five  seconds  time  fuse.  I 
found  bombing  more  interesting  than  any  other 
kind  of  warfare  I  had  yet  taken  up,  and  the  fact 
that  it  was  possible  to  kill  or  wound  a  number 
of  Germans  with  one  well-aimed  bomb  greatly 
appealed  to  me.  When  I  returned  to  the  line 
my  rifle  was  placed  as  second  favorite,  the  bombs 
always  holding  first  place  in  my  estimation. 

When  I  arrived  back  to  the  battalion,  they 
were  at  Ploegstreet,  or  "Plug-street,"  as  we 
called  it,  and  this  front  being  rather  quick,  we 
had  a  picnic,  in  comparison  to  some  of  the  pre- 
vious places.  The  trenches  at  Ploegstreet  were 
well  constructed,  and  fairly  dry,  and  were  al- 
ways considered  the  best  on  the  British  front. 

The  Germans  were  1,300  yards  away  and  a 
small  river  ran  between  their  lines  and  ours. 
Owing  to  the  great  distance  between  the  lines, 
patrols  were  always  out  at  night,  so  as  to  pre- 
vent a  surprise  attack.  Our  patrols  consisted  of 
a  non-commissioned  officer  and  two  men,  but 
sometimes  a  fighting  patrol  of  ten  men  with  a 
Lewis  gun  were  sent  out. 


i82  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

As  the  Germans  always  had  patrols  out  as 
well,  this  was  a  ticklish  business,  as  it  was  quite 
common  for  the  patrols  to  meet  and  then  there 
would  be  a  little  dirty  work.  On  these  occasions 
I  always  had  a  good  supply  of  bombs,  and  one 
night  when  near  a  bridge  of  planks,  which 
crossed  the  river,  I  heard  the  creaking  and  knew 
that  a  German  patrol  was  crossing.  The  night 
being  pitch  dark,  made  it  impossible  for  me  to 
see  them,  so  I  whispered  to  the  two  privates  to 
creep  back  to  the  bushes,  which  were  a  few  yards 
away,  and  there  we  would  wait  for  them.  This 
we  did  in  a  few  seconds.  I  could  hear  the  Ger- 
man patrol  walking  through  the  grass  toward 
us,  and  when  I  judged  they  were  about  twenty- 
five  yards  away  I  quickly  removed  the  safety 
pin  from  the  bomb  and  threw  it  in  their  direc- 
tion. 

By  the  time  the  first  one  burst,  I  had  the  pin 
removed  from  another  one,  and  as  the  place  was 
lit  up  by  the  flash  of  the  bomb,  I  had  a  good 
view  of  the  German  fighting  patrol,  and  so  con- 
sequently the  second  bomb  which  I  threw  fell 
in  the  middle  of  them,  as  they  were  beating  it 
for  the  bridge,  and  evidently  some  of  them  were 
hit,  as  they  squealed  like  most  Germans  do  when 
wounded.  Knowing  that  the  survivors  would 
open  fire  in  our  direction  as  soon  as  they  were 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  183 

over  the  bridge,  we  ran  for  cover  to  a  bunch  of 
trees,  and  there  lay  down  for  a  few  minutes 
until  the  firing  had  died  down. 

Telling  my  two  chums  to  remain  under  cover 
until  I  returned,  I  crawled  back  to  see  if  the 
Germans  had  returned  for  any  of  their  wounded. 
Carefully  maneuvering,  I  could  hear  the  low 
moans  of  a  wounded  German,  so  I  went  to  see 
what  damage  I  had  done.  One  German  was 
dead  and  the  other  who  was  moaning  was  se- 
verely wounded  in  the  legs,  several  pieces  of 
the  bomb  hitting  him  in  different  places. 

Seeing  that  he  needed  immediate  assistance, 
and  wishing  to  get  him  back  to  our  lines  for  in- 
formation purposes,  I  crawled  back  to  my 
chums  and  told  them  to  come  back  with  me  to 
the  wounded  German.  When  we  reached  him 
I  told  one  of  them  to  go  down  to  the  bridge 
and  watch  in  case  the  Germans  would  return. 
The  first  thing  I  did  was  to  kick  the  German's 
rifle  out  of  the  way,  in  case  he  wanted  to  use 
it  when  our  backs  were  turned,  and  then  pro- 
ceeded to  bandage  his  wounds.  Then  walking 
down  to  the  bridge,  I  told  my  chum  that  every- 
thing was  ready  to  carry  the  prisoner  back,  and 
after  stumbling  and  carrying  him  for  over  a 
thousand  yards,  we  reached  our  lines,  and  then 


i84  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

handed  him  over  to  the  stretcher  bearers,  who 
took  him  to  the  dressing  station. 

After  a  few  weeks  at  Ploegstreet,  wc  were 
again  shifted  to  Passchendale,  and  as  the  winter 
was  now  on,  things  were  much  worse  than  on 
our  previous  visit.  The  first  time  we  went  to 
the  front  line  we  experienced  on  this  occasion 
something  new.  Previously,  in  the  trenches,  we 
always  had  ration  parties  go  back  to  the  rear  at 
night  for  supplies,  and  always  received  rations 
daily  and  a  lot  of  rum  in  the  morning. 

The  shell-fire  being  so  bad  made  it  too  costly 
at  Passchendale  to  send  men  back  every  night, 
so  before  we  went  up  the  line,  we  were  served 
with  three  days'  rations  and  a  gasoline  can  full 
of  water.  In  addition  to  this,  every  man  had  to 
carry  250  rounds  of  ammunition,  several  bombs, 
gas  mask,  trench  coat  and  waterproof  sheet,  rifle, 
bayonet  and  grubber,  sand  bags,  trench  helmet 
and  a  shovel.  1  shall  never  forget  the  six  miles 
march  up  to  the  front  Ime  with  all  the  equip- 
ment. The  shovel  which  I  had  tied  to  the  mid- 
dle of  my  back  kept  banging  against  my  legs, 
and  1  was  always  scared  of  losing  my  can  of 
water.  Several  men,  while  crossing  the  duck- 
boards  fell  off,  and  went  up  to  their  necks  in 
mud,  and  if  curses  would  have  killed  the  Kaiser, 
he  would  have  died  that  night. 


ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES  185 

At  last  we  reached  the  front  line  and  relieved 
the  Devons,  who  had  been  up  there  three  days 
— three  days  in  a  shell-hole,  half  full  of  water, 
bully  beef,  biscuits  and  cold  water,  tainted  with 
gasoline  for  our  rations,  shell-fire  continuously 
and  occasionally  a  cloud  of  gas. 

I  do  not  think  it  possible  for  a  person  who  has 
never  experienced  it  to  have  the  slightest  imagi- 
nation what  suffering  and  torture  we  had  to  un- 
dergo on  the  Passchendale  front.  Many  a 
wounded  man,  while  staggering  back  over  the 
duck-board,  slipped  off  and  was  drowned,  not 
having  the  strength  to  pull  himself  out  of  the 
mud. 

Fatigue  parties  were  working  every  night  to 
keep  the  duck-board  paths  in  repair,  as  shells 
were  continuously  hitting  them,  and  every  hit 
meant  a  few  duck-boards  smashed  to  splinters. 
The  dump  where  new  supplies  of  duck-boards 
were  kept  was  five  miles  from  the  front  line, 
and  if  new  ones  were  required  it  meant  a  five- 
mile  hike  with  a  duck-board  on  our  shoulders, 
and  a  five-mile  hike  back.  We  lost  thirty  men 
out  of  a  fatigue  party  one  night  by  shell-fire,  and 
the  casualties  were  so  heavy  that  there  was  a 
continuous  stream  of  motor  ambulances  along 
the  roads  in  the  rear. 

This  was  my  fourth  winter  in  the  trenches. 


i86  ALLIED  OVERSEAS  STORIES 

and  the  constant  strain  was  beginning  to  tell  on 
me,  and  I  fell  sick  with  pneumonia  and  devel- 
oped trench  feet.  This  time  I  was  sent  to  Eng- 
land, and  when  I  came  out  of  the  hospital  I  ob- 
tained convalescent  leave  to  see  my  people,  who 
were  living  in  Winnipeg,  Canada. 

My  health  not  improving,  I  was  discharged 
from  the  army  in  May,  1918,  after  having  served 
fifteen  years  as  a  regular  soldier  and  was  three 
years  and  two  months  in  France. 


D 
F77 

19/9 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

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AA    000  387  011    0 


